I was making dinner with the usual raucous surrounding me:
Boys running through the house like maniacs, laughing, crying, yelling, squealing, jumping, spinning, climbing all over the furniture, turning lights on.
Me yelling at them to turn the lights off, stop pushing, quit squealing, get down from there.
I mean it!
I hear Finley crying from the front hall and turned to find Adrian, who had just ran from the hall to the living room. I pick my sad little guy up and walk over to my mischievous looking one.
"Adrian do you know why Finley's crying?"
Adrian evading the question, turns his back to me climbing up onto a dining room chair, "Finley's soft and squishy - we need to throw him out."
"Nobody throws anyone out in this family. That is NOT nice."
Not to mention illegal.
"He bit my finger. He's crazy."
"Did you bite him back?" eyebrows scrunched together sternly quickly inspecting Fin's index finger as I see him holding it.
No teeth marks.
"NO. I didn't. We should throw him away. We can buy a new baby. A princess one. Like Princess Fiona!"
So charming isn't it?