No Explanation Needed.

(I'm jumping around a bit. I need to find the time to write part two of the last post. Trust me, you do need to read about what Logan did. I just can't seem to find more than 32 seconds these days. I'll post it....soon. Promise)

Luke begged me to make sugar cookies today. He didn't ask early this morning, he waited until an hour before school. It wasn't something I had planned on doing, and it certainly wasn't something I thought we would have time to complete. So we hustled. We gathered, measured, mixed, rolled and baked. And guess what? We even had time to decorate and EAT!

As Luke shoved the last morsel of his crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside, dripping with frosting that is melting from the fresh-from-the-oven cookie into his mouth, he muttered this:

"MNNPFFF MOOKKY MMMASSTTESS MWWWWIKE MMMEESUS"

Translation-

"This cookie tastes just like Jesus. Jesus is SO very, very good, right Mom?"

My boys have taught me that the best things in life happen without an agenda.

You rock, Luke.

Pictures say a thousand words.

If you've wondered how my week has been going, think no more. If I wanted to, I could easily omit all text within this post and just show you pictures. In it, you would find that things have been quite normal with the Gang Of Seven.

But writing calms my nerves, so you get text, too. Where shall I begin...?

Let's start with this scenario. I'm running behind my daily schedule (imagine that) and have less than 20 minutes to coax the boys indoors, feed them lunch and get Luke off to school. Let me add that coaxing them in will prove to be next to impossible as it is the first time it's been warm enough to play outside for more than one week.

Lucky for me, they all came the first time I called to them. I can smell trouble from a mile away.

As they approach the back door, I hear a soft, little voice through the open kitchen window...

"Mom, don't be mad. It was an accident."

I open the door and see this:

As the culprit sits tight for further interrogation, he adds....

"You should really be mad at Jack, mom. When I threw the mud on him, he ate it."

But that was nothing compared to what our little angel, Logan, did two nights ago.

No, it wasn't that he colored on the wall and all over our light switch. (That is a daily occurrence.)

Stay tuned. Part two continues tomorrow.

Not For The Squeamish.

It began just like any other day.

5 boys awake before the sun had finished rising.

5 grumpy, sleepy boys heading downstairs. Some in their pj's, some dressed in clothes. Some sporting diapers that sagged to their knees.

5 hungry boys begging for 5 different things for breakfast.

One mom doing her best to please.

And the morning led it's way to early afternoon just like that. Then the boys asked for popcorn. Another daily ritual. One that ends with the usual popcorn fight or the brotherly battle of who can toss popcorn into the sky and catch it in their mouth. My floor proudly displays the truth...no one can! I pulled out the vacuum and began to clean the battlefield that was once known as my family room floor.

Then I heard it. The blood-curdling scream that unmistakably means a child is injured.

I leaped up the stairs and met Jack halfway.

Dangling from his finger was Robin, our pet gerbil. Robin had clamped so hard onto Jack's finger, that his teeth were actually stuck. That's right. Those yellowy, curvy, nasty, rodent teeth were embedded in my child's tiny, adorable, little digit.

Blood was dripping and Jack was screaming. No time to stop and asess. No time to think. I sprang into action and did what any adrenaline-charged mother would do. I squeezed and pulled and finally freed my son. After a call to the pediatrician, we were able to stop the bleeding. No shots and no stitches. All things considered, it ended nicely.

Robin would tell you differently. If only he could.