...don't exist. At least not in my reality. See their halos gleaming brightly in this picture?
Side note: this photo was taken early yesterday morning (7:30ish - that's early for someone who slept in til almost 8 am all summer long.) I took it before driving them to school. Note Justin's grimace. He's not upset about school, he's angry I'm taking his photo. This was the best of the bunch. Lately, he's developed this strange aversion to the camera. Unfortunate, for despite his less-than-angelic behaviour, he really is quite cute.
Back to that behaviour, then... All summer long, they woke at the crack of stupid. Seriously. They could stay up late and still be awake between 6:30 and 7 am, full of energy and smiles. I mean, who does that willingly??? They'd go play quietly and drag me out of bed when the hunger pangs got to be too much to handle. We'd lounge in our PJs and take it easy til we had somewhere we needed to be. Perfection.
School starts, and I have to fight to get them to open their eyes at 6:45. What the heck? I'm sure that Saturday they'll wake quite willingly (and on their own) at 6:30 and be jumping on our bed. After the battle to urge them into some semblance of consciousness, we begin the battle of getting dressed. Again... all summer long they've managed to dress themselves and prepare for the day without difficulty. School begins and they revert to toddler behaviour. Limbs flailing, stubborn rigidity, tears flowing with cries of "I don't know how..." (because somehow summer drained away the knowledge of how to insert a foot into a sock.)
Ah, sweet relief to get them out the door, to the end of the driveway, and onto the bus - backpacks loaded, clothes on, breakfast eaten, faces washed, children not quite smiling. Did we remember to brush our teeth? Don't look to closely at Justin's shirt - there's probably a syrup stain from breakfast. We're doing really well if Kaleb doesn't decide he needs to use the bathroom halfway up the driveway or if the bus driver isn't honking as she drives past.
I sighed a great big "aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh" this morning returning to the house. I threw in a load of laundry. I loaded up the dishwasher. I gathered up the small piles of action figures, dinky cars and colouring pages that distributed themselves randomly throughout the living room. Arms full, I head to the boys' room, turn the door knob, and... what on earth?!? Can't get in. My sweet, darling, angelic children have locked their bedroom door. And shut it. They never shut their door! And we have no key. I didn't even know their door had a lock. A keyed lock at that. Couldn't be one of those easy-peasy stick a bobby pin in the door locks.... nope, it's gotta be a full out need a cut key - the right cut key - fancy schmancy locks. Okay. Redeposit armfuls onto my bed and try every single random key we own. No go. All the screws on the doorknob are on the inside of the room and so are the door hinges. Ack. Good thing I have a handy dandy hubby who knows how to shimmy a lock... learned in his youthful rebellion perhaps? He won't admit it of course. Doesn't matter - we all know those Oshawa boys pick up some interesting skills while they're young.
Thank goodness God gave my kids adorable faces... it might just make up for their not quite so angelic antics. (Don't get me started on the water on the bathroom floor last week... or rock climbing the fireplace... or....or... or...) Lord knows the trouble they'd be in if they couldn't melt my heart with a grin.