Last night was hubby's crossing over from lowly Bachelor Degree to awesome MBA. At least that's what I told the kiddo's when asked why daddy had to have another graduation. They seemed to get it.
The one hour long commencement ceremony started with me and the boys sitting in the bleachers, midway through we were standing in the back being blown away by the big industrial fans (yes, the kids started saying, "Luke, I am your father" into them) and ending with us running up and down the stairs to the balcony over looking the auditorium. It was the longest hour ever in the history of my life.
The older boys are reasonable. You can tell them they need to sit and be quiet and, besides normal wiggling and armrest wars, they are well behaved and have been that way since they were young. At least that's how I am remembering it. I'm sure many will tell me "No, they were pretty horrible." But then how much worse are the last two if they trump the memory of the first terrible two?
The youngest two are monsters. Pure and simple. No, no, monsters can be tamed. They are terrorists. They hold you hostage, being forced to give into their every whim, because the moment you don't, the torrent of screams that emanate from the once sweet little faces reduce you to begging and pleading for quiet. And keeping the babies quiet at all cost is our way of life.
I have no idea what changed in my parenting techniques between child 2 and child 3. I'm pretty sure I'm the same, but was given two heathens to try and raise. They are impossible, number 4 being the worst. However, in his defence, he has slept through the night since just a few months old, a feat which was unimaginable to the other boys for many years. So I should just be glad I was well rested before having to deal with the terrifying terrible two in public.
You are a saint Em! Way to look at the postive:)
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