Trauma and Goodwill

Last night the boys got to stay up late.  It was Friday night, after all.  After a nice, wholesome dinner of Chef Boyardee and Apple Jacks with a side of Nick Jr, I got them all snuggled cozy in their beds.  We had a short, but intense therapy session over the trauma I caused them by purging the toy box.  You know...those toys they haven't touched in 6 months suddenly warrant the exclamatory "OH!!  That's my FAVORITE!"  Anyway, I was able to talk Jack off the ledge and we finished with prayers, ideas on Daddy's adventures (apparently they have scuba diving in Afghanistan) and a few sweet kisses. 

Then, something wonderful happened.  At 7:15 (Hey!  Don't judge me, I DID say they got to stay up late,) I sat down in a nice, hot bath.  Ahhhh.  Peace and quiet.  Although, I'm finding more and more that peace and quiet actually hurts my ears.  So weird.  I was just getting to the good part of my bath time dream, the one where I'm a size 8 and I'm eating a Cinnabon the size of my head, when I heard it.  The deep breath Jack takes before he voices a question.  I'm still trying to figure out how he learned to open doors.  I thought smearing Vaseline on all of the door knobs would surely stop him. (That was a bad joke...we didn't really do that.  We used baby oil)  So, before he could speak I gave the typical mother prelude..."I'm going to count to 3 and you better be back in that bed!"  I meant it.  He meant to ask me a question, too. He won.  He's way cuter!  "Momma, why do my favorite toys have to leave this disaster of a house?" *Note to self: Be careful with descriptions of people, places and things in the future.*  Then and there, with me in what was once a relaxing bath and Jack sitting in the bedroom floor out of sight of what could potentially be a more traumatizing view than the toys in the garbage bag, we discussed charity and goodwill.  We discussed "Goodwill" in terms of it being a regular noun and also in terms of it being a proper noun...because that's where the "favorite toys" are going next week.  I don't know how much he understood but I tried.  We attempted this conversation a couple months ago over why he should eat the "Luckys" as well as the "Charms," but it was a waste of breath.  Maybe now that he's 4, he'll get it. We shall see.

I'm going to take a little time here to mention my awesome husband.  You will find that while he will show up in my posts, there probably won't be a lot written about him.  It's not because I don't like him, because I do.  A lot.  He's my knight in desert cammies and a flak jacket. It's just that I'm one of those military wives that takes Operational Security to a ridiculous level.  Better safe than sorry.  Not that I think the 'bad guys' have any interest in what I write, but I don't want to chance giving them too much information about who I believe to be the greatest Marine EVER!  He is my rock and it goes without saying that I would have absolutely no material without him.  After all, he is the co-creator of my fodder! 

Until next time, be happy and enjoy your weekend!