Can you tell by the title I've been reading too much Dickens? No? Well, I haven't read any lately, but I'm in an odd mood so thus, the title.
The boys are enjoying the spring weather. We had a lovely weekend and they spent a lot of time playing outside. Timothy especially enjoyed creating a mud lake with the hose, then taking off his shoes and wading around in it in his socks. As he explained to me, "He didn't want to get his shoes dirty." Perhaps, in retrospect, there should've been a little more supervision. This resulted, on Sunday night, in a pair of boys so filthy that it required a LOOONG soak in the tub to loosen the grime. And this is how Moses came by his comeuppance. While Timothy was soaking in the suds, I took advantage of the time by cleaning the bathroom. Moses was fascinated by the entire process. As I scrubbed the toilet, he kept batting at the brush. It's a wonder he didn't bleach himself. Eventually, he got bored with toilet cleaning and decided to sit on the edge of the tub and try to figure out what Timothy was up to. It should be noted that none of my other cats are that dumb. Sure, they'll all line up to watch me take a bath, but they're all far too smart to come anywhere near Timothy when there's water involved. Moses had just settled into a comfy spot on the tub's edge when Timothy noticed him and yanked him in. I consider my sock yarn to be avenged. Of course, I had to clean up the water everywhere, but it was worth it. On a side note, I was a little amazed that the water in the tub was a lovely shade of brown when Timothy was done soaking. He was THAT dirty! I had to run clean water to rinse him.
The second part of this blog is unrelated to the first, but a little funny. Since yesterday was Monday (OK, that was dumb. I'm sure none of you live in a cave and therefore, you already know it was Monday!), I was up at 3 am to drive to Wichita for work. I get very little sleep on Sunday night, usually about 3 hours, so I'm exhausted when I get home Monday night. This was compounded by a giant storm system that was rolling through yesterday evening. I raced it home, and then we spent the night listening to tornado sirens and wondering if we were going to wake up in Oz. This morning found me dead to the world. While I was snoozing, unaware, Timothy decided to help himself to some Pop Tarts that Mom bought yesterday as a treat for Gabe. When I woke up this morning I found shredded foil packets all over the house. A quick call to Mom revealed that Gabe had only had one of the Pop Tarts. And they were gone, all gone. Which means Timothy ate an entire box of Pop Tarts, minus one, his cereal, a banana, and still greeted me this morning with "Can Timofee have a snack?". I should've given him a stern lecture but I was too tired. And hey, if you can't eat your weight in Pop Tarts when you're in preschool, when can you?