Five Alive

This sweet boy, my first-born son, will be five on Wednesday. But lately he is not acting like a five-year-old. Nuh-uh, not at all. And I keep telling him that we are not going to celebrate this big day unless he gets his act together. Maybe we'll wait a month, or put it off until the Spring.

This is what he did today (with a little help from his younger brother):

*Pulled off couch cushions (AGAIN)
*Dumped pretzels, cheetos, and popcorn onto the couch frame, then sprayed it with kitchen cleaner
*Crunched three bags of ramen with a mallet, and dumped them on the floor and counters
*Dragged a small folding chair from the closet into the kitchen, climbed onto the counters, pulled the frosting bag and food coloring out of the cupboard and left it on the counter (probably thought it was the bag of chocolate chips)
*Cut open a few fruit roll-ups, leaving the wrappers and the scissors on the love seat
*Tore open a package of poptarts, then left them on the end table
*Scattered recently developed photographs across the floor

All of that was before 8:00 AM. When I went downstairs and saw the pandemonium, I couldn't take it. I surveyed the damage and went straight upstairs. I told Gavin he had better get up and get down there as it was the worst mess I'd ever seen, and I was going running. If I was to help the boys clean up, I would dismember them. I was so mad.

Like always, my run did me good. It took a good 1/2 mile or mile before I could think of something else besides how mad I was. Or how stupid I was to stay in bed. Or how ridiculous I was to not remember to latch the pantry before bed. Finally I could enjoy the peace and quiet of hitting my stride and listening to my iPod.

When I returned home, sweet Gavin had most of the mess cleaned up and had coached the boys all along about how naughty it was. Little Jace was sequestered to his chair and kept saying, "Sawee." "No more mesthes." "Doont do it ageen." I helped Lincoln sweep up the ramen, and we were moving on.

Not so fast.

Gavin went to turn on the TV so the boys could watch a show while he ran on our treadmill and I showered. And the TV wouldn't turn on. Apparently the boys had sprayed more than their little couch-top snack buffet. They also sprayed INSIDE THE TELEVISION.

We realized the TV was in fact already on. It was making a buzzing and crackling sound that was so faint you didn't realize it until you unplugged it. When plugging it back in again, it crackled even louder and something zzzted and snapped.

We asked Lincoln if he had sprayed the TV. "Yah." And what happened? "It tuhned yike colors running down the skeen and den made a sound and den dere were no more shows on."

Buh-bye TV.

Okay, so our list continues:

*BROKE the TV
*Locked himself and Jace in the bathroom, filled up the sink with water, flooded the floor, and emptied out a bottle of shampoo
*Smeared peanut butter in Jace's hair (and on a few toys we later found out)

And these last two antics were inbetween discovering the TV was broken and taking Aubrey to her basketball game. While Gavin bathed Jace, I took Lincoln and Aubrey to the game. As long as Lincoln was separated from Jace and out of the house, he was okay.

(Oh, except Gavin called me while we were out to say he found another mess in the bathroom--a whole roll of toilet paper had been dropped in the toilet, then stashed behind the door so we wouldn't find it, and someone had artistically smeared poo on the toilet seat. Yeah.)

We purchased a new TV (not what I had planned to do on the last Saturday before Christmas . . . ), and were hooking everything up tonight when Lincoln was in trouble again. I don't even remember what he did, but he was sent to time out in his room.

Unbeknownst to us, he took a large piece of the new TV styrofoam packing to his room with him. While in time out, he broke it up into little tiny pieces with a screwdriver (also contraband!), and dumped them on his floor. So he went to bed all alone without a story. But he's still not done!

At 10:30, he starts puking his guts out. ANOTHER MESS! Poor little guy is so dog dead tired from trouble-making all day long that he is chewing on his barf chunks! Gavin has to rouse him enough to tell him to quit chewing the chunks! Gross!!! It isn't until Lincoln is all showered off and clean and asks me why I'm scrubbing his carpet--he didn't even know he had been sick.

Hopefully now we can get some rest, and hopefully tomorrow he can make better choices. If this nonsense continues though, I am seriously going to postpone his birthday.


(P.S. I have real food in my house too--it's not all poptarts and cheetos and chocolate chips--that's just what naughty boy goes for when he wants to wreak havoc.)

(P.P.S. I DO punish this kid, but it's apparently not sinking in.)

(P.P.P.S. No, I did not take any pictures of today's mayhem. But I chose to blog about it because perhaps someday I'll think it's as funny as my mom thinks it is.)