Our dining room can become a crime scene at any moment.
I get asked to take the sugar container out of the cupboard before dinner. Why? So Nat can get his hot rod out. The hot rod that is buried in the bottom of the sugar.
I hear Emma yelling into the dark garage, thinking she heard a noise, 'Is anybody in here? Well, anybody except God?'
I find myself actually having a conversation discussing Strawberry Shortcake's age.
One child's innocent question about weather turns into a 45 minute lesson on meteorology.
I have a line of begging boys whenever a lamp, broom, or mop goes bad and is on its way to the garbage. Think weapons.
I have Playmobil guys living in my beautiful lighthouse tea-light holder.
There are strings with green paper hanging on the ficus tree in the living room. Apparently someone thought the tree didn't have enough leaves.
Life is interesting in my house.