Little detail

Tonight Max came up from the basement to pronounce that Leo was hitting his brothers their friend Mateo. So I had the 4 year old come up to talk to me.

Me: Leo, raise your hand.
Leo: I didn't DO any thing.
Me: I didn't ask you if you did anything. I asked you to raise your hand
(repeat the last two sentences ~3-4 times)
Me: Repeat after me. I will not...
Leo: I will not...
Me: ...hit my brother or Mateo
Leo:... hit my brothers with Mateo.

One little word. Big difference.

What the hell happened?

I thought I was the mother of young boys. The fact that I am not yet completely Pull-up free would support this world view. But today, I looked around and realized that I am thoroughly delusional.

The boys want to listen to KDWB (top 40!??!). Max has taken to making us omelets any morning we ask. We pay a quarter for emptying the dishwasher and making coffee, and most mornings I don't have to touch either appliance. Max can just head into the study and knock out his homework and reading solo. I tell the kids it's 10 minutes to bus time, and everyone is piling out the door 4 minutes later (+/- homework or adequate outerwear....). I can announce bedtime and everyone is actually in PJ's with teeth brushed while I stay firmly rooted to the couch watching Monday Night Football.

Last weekend, one of Max's friends came over and ALL the boys (including the 4 year old) played outside for FOUR HOURS. I went for a run, and they were still doing the same thing when I returned that they were doing when I left. (Now granted, Omar was home. We aren't to THAT stage yet. Oh, that would be just TOO crazy...).

It is remarkable how many baby-soaked years you yearn to have children able to wipe themselves, brush their own teeth, eat breakfast without assistance, dress independently (weather appropriate and in the right orientation), stop whining, stop pulling on your clothes, stop asking for uppies, and just GROW UP.

And then they do. And you didn't really see it happen.