If I'm going to start writing again...

today is as good a day as any to start!

Better than most actually. "Why is that?" I hear you wondering. Primarily because of activities around the old homestead a couple of evenings ago.

Thursday night we put the boys to bed around 7:00, maybe 7:30. They had just finished dinner and a bath, and Theresa got them changed and into Noah's crib. Although they each technically have their own cribs, they have been able to get in and out of them at will for some time now, and usually end up with both being in one crib or the other. We've yet to determine why one is more attractive than the other, although they do tend to favor Noah's.

Mattea was wrapped in towels, (likely butterfly, bear, and frog, but I'm not certain) lying on our bed watching the Disney channel. As the boys were giggling and getting up and moving around, I directed Mattea to get into her pajamas, and went back and ordered the boys back into bed. They complied, but not without a fight. They cried, and climbed out of the crib, and I fought with them and threatened to close the door (which Noah and Grayson both equate with a fate worse than death). I generally bathe the kids, but for some reason Thursday night the chore fell to Theresa, so the bathtime routine was not as routine as it generally would be. Perhaps that was the start of it all. I ended up closing the door on them.

I should probably mention an architecturally important detail at this point. When the boys gained their freedom through advanced climbing skills, we found it necessary to reverse the door knob on the door to their room, so that it locked from the outside. Yes, I know. We are horrible parents, and will henceforth be reviled throughout the known universe. But it was one way that we could think of that would keep them somewhat contained.

Alright, now you are wondering why we wish to keep them somewhat contained. You don't have kids, do you? You don't have two-year old twin boys, do you? When they were previously free range, they found it necessary to get out of their cribs, go downstairs, and exit the front door which was deadbolt locked. The front door deadbolt has now been replaced, and requires a key to open it from inside, as well as outside. (Actually, the last one did too. But we generally left the key in the lock, and the boys had slammed the door/key into the wall so many times that the key could no longer be removed. So they learned that they could open the door by turning the key. We no longer leave the key in the door.) They were now safely locked in their room.

Theresa and I started eating dinner, and watched something on television. I thought that I heard some sounds that were not coming from the television. When I got up to the boys' room, it was clear that they had not heeded my previous request. The sliding doors to the closet were open, with a majority of the easily reached content gleefully re-arranged around the floor of their room. Apparently, if they couldn't get out, they would have a party in their room! Ignoring the mess, I scooped them up, put them in their cribs and told them that I would be watching them from my office, just down the hall. When they settled down, I went downstairs to finish my dinner. A short while later, more noise. This time they were playing on Mattea's bed. As they have a history of turning this type of behaviour into a longer lasting pattern, I decided to separate them. One (Grayson, I believe) was sentenced to Noah's crib, and the other (probably Noah) was placed on our bed. Mattea, who had by now fallen asleep, was carried into her own bed, in her own room.

As Theresa and I resumed watching television downstairs in the family room, I thought that I had heard some noises that I shouldn't have been hearing, coming from above. Investigating, I found the two of them in the upstairs bathroom. Noah had apparently deemed it in his best interest to free his brother in order to allow them to immerse their arms up to the elbow into the water in the toilet bowl (with long sleeved pj's on). This behaviour, being generally frowned upon in our household, led to a change in pj's for both of them, with Dad deciding to ride herd over them, each in their own crib, from the glider in the corner of their room. I'm not sure who dozed off first - Noah, Grayson, or me. But I do recall Theresa checking on everyone, and so I got up and trundled off to bed.

I slept through this part, so you are getting it second-hand. Noah woke up and decided to explore. (Apparently we had decided against locking them in their room, because they were already asleep.) Theresa woke up to the sound of little footsteps and lights on in the bathroom, Mattea's room and the entry hall. Noah was on her side of the bed, with an empty plastic water bottle. (We never found any signs of excessive water spillage, so either he drank it, poured it out in a place where it would drain, or it was empty to begin with.) She took his water bottle away, put him in his crib, and turned out the lights. As she was drifting off to sleep, she was awakened by more noises. This time she found him in Mattea's bathroom with band-aids liberally applied to most surfaces in the room.

It was at this juncture that Noah joined us in our bed. Mattea sleeps like her dad, and had slept through Noah slogging about in her room and turning on the light. Seemingly, Grayson had slept through all of this as well. Theresa, by now, had realized that the water bottle had come from downstairs, so she went downstairs and turned off the kitchen lights. And Noah was happy to snuggle up between mom and dad and drifted peacefully off to sleep.

If I recover, perhaps I'll write again.

PS: If you read my original post below, you will note that you must be registered to comment. I've learned since then that this is a changeable setting. Theresa has (or had) her blog set up to require that comment posters be registered. I have set mine up so that anyone can comment. So maybe Google's not so bad after all.