Boys ...

Boys ...
they stink and they can't aim.
Don't try to argue with me on this one. I have physical proof.
He really does stink and he really can't aim - but I wouldn't trade this little boy for a 100 Yankee Candles and a spotless bathroom. He's the silver lining on any cloudy day. He's the sugar at the bottom of your tea cup. He's ... well, you get the point.

But just incase you don't get the point or think I'm exagerating. Here's proof. Just a few quips and quotes from this past week out of the mouth of one stinky little babe!

At the breakfast table.
J: So guess which kid at the table has REAL boobies?
Everyone: Huh?
J: Guess which kid (not Mommy) has REAL boobies?
M: Umm - none of you.
J: WRONG!! (whips of his shirt) ME - I've been doing push-ups and I have REAL boobies now, just like Daddy!
Someone needs to tell the boy that they're pecks - and that his daddy probably doesn't like his muscles refered to as boobies!

Later that afternoon. Hannah (our neighbor) sitting on the couch. Justin walks in the room.
J: So you wanna feel my boobies Hannah? They're real. See. (Again, whips off the shirt).

Really, this boy's daddy must have a talk with him. And quick!

***

We claim to be a homeschool family but our "dirty little secret" is that I send Justin to kindergarten at our local public school. Not really a dirty secret - just not widely known among the homeschool friends. My reason are varied - but it's a really good thing for our family and he'll be home with me again next year.

So, with that confession aside - I was cooing over Justin the other day after school. Hugging him, kissing him, tickling him, telling him how much I missed him all day.
M: Mrs. Ebert just doesn't love you enough. (more hugs, more kisses)
M: She doesn't give you enough lovin'. (another hug)
J: Umm, yeah - get over it mom! (big smirk on his face as he comes in for another kiss)

OK - I'm not over it. But I think we both loved the tickle-fest that followed this conversation!

***

I can't tell this story without a little background and divulging of information. We are anticipating some big changes in the Saylor household. For a number of years now we've felt moved to foster and/or adopt. I'll write more about why at a later time. We met with a social worker about a year and a half ago. We were gung-ho about it, ready to welcome new babies into our home at the drop of a dime. Until we realized that the process involved 27 hours of training. 27 hours - that's a lot of training time to fit into our schedules. Well after Christmas we decided we couldn't put it off any longer. Our hearts are burning. We rearranged schedules and jumped right into the training - every Tuesday for the next 9 weeks. Phew.

Well - we've been open with the kids about it all. Mostly we've been open about how much we don't know. We don't know when. When don't know age. We don't know boy or girl. What we do know if that we love kids and we've got room in our house and in our hearts. Please pray for us as we consider this. It's not set in stone - but it is on our hearts.

So yesterday in the van Justin pipes up with a litany of questions ending with this one.
J: So are we getting a baby or a kid?
M: We don't know. We'll just have to wait and see.
J: OK.
Silence
J: I think I want a nunchuck. A nunchuck and then a kid. Or just a baby.
M: What?
J: Well, if we get a kid I want to teach them how to play Indian Jones on the Wii - so then we'll need another nunchuck. If we get a baby we won't need the nunchuck.
M: Ahh...
J: I think I want the nunchuck and the kid.

***

So the boy stinks. So I need to clean up the boys bathroom twice as often as the girls bathroom. I'll take the good with the bad. All the good kind of makes me forget about the bad (almost).