I Call Dibs! Or Life With Teenage Boys

“Shall we spill the beans now?”

These were among the first words I heard when I came in this afternoon from work. The boys had been with Marnell most of the day.

“Which beans?” Marnell asked D.

“About what happened this morning,” D said.

“Do you have something to tell me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he confessed. “But it’s fixed now! It’s all good!”

Apparently, in the flurry of a snowball fight, one of the graceful long-necked birds on the window sill had taken a hit, plummeted to the floor, and broken in two.

“But we glued it!” he informed me triumphantly.

Since last Saturday night, our house has taken a distinct turn for the unfamiliar.

Besides the air being thick with flying cotton snowballs, “calling dibs” is a thing.

“I call dibs on the top bunk.”

“I call dibs on licking the spoon.”

“I call dibs on the wooden bowl.”

We’ve made several rules, such as, “No throwing things in the house except snowballs.” This rule has also been amended already to include paper airplanes, of which they are only supposed to make one per day.

“As long as nothing explodes, I’m good,” I said weakly to Marnell Monday night, from my position flat on my back on the carpet. I then dissolved into a weak and giddy laughter at how low my bar had already become after a mere 30 hours.

But, it turns out that “calling dibs” is not always an act of selfishness. The other night, I announced that the trash needed to be taken out in the morning.

“I call dibs!” a voice cried.

And sure enough, that young man had barely been out of bed when I heard the outer door open and he returned.

“I took the trash out,” he said.

Wonders never cease, my mom used to say.

Well, the kitchen floor is littered with cookie crumbs from the crisp cookies that D made with one stick of butter and 1/2 cup of oil instead of only butter or only oil. The flower beds need help, I need to do a little laundry, and I haven’t even unpacked my lunch.

I apologize for not having anything super inspirational to say today. But if you need cookies half the thickness of the chocolate chips jutting out of them, come on over. If you need paper claws, I have you covered. If you need to be videoed by an old cell phone hidden behind the bowl of pine cones, we have that form of entertainment too.

Happy Saturday night!

16 thoughts on “I Call Dibs! Or Life With Teenage Boys”

  1. Don’t get weary in well doing! You are building an awesome relationship and influence on these boys’ lives. They’ll never forget their time at your house, I’m quite sure!

  2. Hang in there sister! Your impact on their lives will last forever, even if the process is daunting. Cheering for you guys!

  3. Boys are so precious n so much fun!! ( that’s all we ever had!) God bless you both for creating such precious memories with them. Yes they keep you hopping but what else would I do with that time?!? N put in proper perspective.. there are only 18 precious summers/years that we can have with them before they’re adults.

  4. This made me smile. You’re a good storyteller! 🙂 The way you share your home and God’s grace with others is beautiful.

  5. Beth Wagenius

    I love this! Enjoy your time with them. It all looks fun….and tiring. But a good tired.

  6. Hi Katrina,
    I discovered this blog today. I love the way in which you write. It’s so relatable and interesting.

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