Hugs and punches.
On our first, official vacation day of Thanksgiving Week, I noticed the full range of noise and emotions and fun and laughter. You know that laughter that ranges from the occasional goofy giggle to full out turn-your-face-red laughter when you can barely catch your breath? We had that. And we also heard tears of frustration and hurt feelings and the noises that generally mean, “Leave me alone!”
Quiet moments to tornado ones.
They’re all good. Some more stressful than others at times, but still. All good.
We ended the day with some grocery store shopping punctuated by a dinner out – the latter is something we’ve done less of lately and that’s fine by me. I kind of like being a homebody when it gets cold outside.
We celebrated with baths followed by Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (hey; go big or go home), and then that followed up with a pretty good face scrubbing for both and a double-the-time teeth brushing party.
If you’ve been wondering why there are so many more pictures of the small fry up there than the other one, it’s because of this.
It makes me feel really guilty sometimes, but then I give it the ol’ reality check. Dude’s in a goofy stage, to say the least.
What’s really funny, though, is seeing his true expressions and reactions.
I think I’ve seen that same look on this man.
One of my most favorite things in the world about that man there is this. We can both get “the look” sometimes. The look that says, “I’m done. Need to tag out,” or, “You should help me because I think they’re trying to kill me.” But a split second later comes a very genuine soft look followed by a voiced, “I love those boys. They are perfect for us.”
Even in the midst of mayhem when it seems as though we’re at their mercy, we know that they feel loved enough to be risk takers, loved enough to push the envelope, and loved enough to love back fiercely.
They use “please” and “thank you” a lot, though sometimes after a reminder or two.
They tell us jokes and interrupt a lot.
They squeeze us really hard trying to see who can give the best hugs (“squeeze ’em til they toot” is a motto around here), and frantically look for open skin to pepper with kisses and zerberts.
They’re really good friends. They’re really good brothers: you know, the hugs-and-punches kind.
Son of a biscuit. Stinkin’ love those fellas.
All for one and one for all
My brother and my friend
What fun we have
The time we share
Brothers ’til the end.