“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!