Lunch

Emma was home from school for two days because she was sick.  The first day she was docile and miserable.  By lunchtime of the second day she was feeling better.  She came to the table and immediately started stirring things up.  Somehow she's the catalyst with her brothers that makes everything more rambunctious and a lot more silly.

The cacophony rose with a lot of giggling and a lot of sound effects and a lot of enthusiasm.  I tried to figure out what was going on then I remembered it was Emma.

This is how it always used to be when they were all home during the days.  Lunch was a noisy proposition.  Life was a noisy proposition.  They were always so busy amusing each other and themselves that everything seemed to deteriorate into a whole lot of goofiness.

I sat back and listened to them and felt a little melancholy for those days.  It was hectic and stressful and loud and wonderful when they were all three homeschooled.

Mark said, "You know how if everyone in the world threw their problems into the sky, they'd hurry to grab their own back?"

"Yes," I said.  It's a story I like to tell them if they're complaining.

He said, "I wouldn't do that.  I'd throw my problems up in the sky then turn around and run away as fast as I could."

Braeden said, "And then someone's eternal hiccups would hit you and you'd wish you could have your own problems again."

"And you'd have hiccups," Emma added.

And they were off.  Silly silly silly and giddy with each other as the audience for their humor.  I could tell any intelligent life had left the building.  I said, "Put your dishes in the dishwasher when you're done eating," and I escaped the table.

Because as much as I love having those three kids around, there's only so much  I can take at one time.


None of these pictures are from today...but you get the idea.