It's When They're in Cahoots that Scares Me

My kids are not gigantic mischief-makers as a general rule.  Yes, they get into trouble. And yes, they occasionally think up wild ways to make messes, but not too often.  (THANK GOODNESS)

At least... when they're working alone. 

I've noticed a trend lately. When two or more of them are together, the mischief making compounds exponentially.  (Do you like that math talk that I'm throwing around?  Because I remember all sorts of stuff from 12th grade calculus. Or not).

The other night, Zoen was freaking out due to a combination of teething, tiredness, and over stimulation.  He needed to be jammied and put to sleep, but keeping him somewhat calm was proving to be difficult, so I asked Caly to go into my room and get his pj's.

Now, awhile back, we inherited a large wooden bookcase and placed it in our room.  Because Z still bunks with us and because there's limited storage in the boys' room, I decided to put Z's blankets, clothes and the like on the shelves. It's turned out to be a nice little system.

So, I sent her in there with the instructions as to where the jammies were, (shelf on the bottom closest to the door).  She was gone for a long time. 

Then she came back empty handed.  "I can't find them!"  She's my finder kid, so I tried describing the shelf again.  And she trotted off saying, "I'll get them now!"  Of course, Sayer heard her and started yelling, "NO! I WILL FIND DEM!" and the two raced into my room.

I focused my attention on the 4 legged octopus that was still fussing in my arms.  I finally got him settled and realized that the two middle kids had been gone... and quiet... for way, way too long.

I asked Lexi... "Hey, so um, where are your sister and brother?"

She cheerily responded, "They're in your room!"

Uh oh. 

She ran off to investigate.  Thirty seconds later, "Mooooooooooooooooooom!  They took all of the clothes off the shelf!"

I sighed, knowing that I'd have reorganize the shelf they took apart.  But no biggie.

Then I got up and walked into the room. 

And this is what I found:

Of course, that meant the floor looked like this:

Every shelf emptied.  They were even innovative enough to get a stool for the top few shelves.  And it included dumping a bag full of recently outgrown clothes into the pile and MIXING THEM UP.  "We stirred them!  It's like soup!"

I dug through the pile, found some jammies, and got everyone in bed.

Then I collapsed on the couch and turned a movie on.  And my gaze traveled downward and landed on this:

 Those would be the pj's I sent C in to find.  The ones I put aside earlier in the evening.  The ones that were totally not on the shelf.  Any of the shelves, for that matter.

Of course.  (Murphey's Law of Parenting: Episode 1289)

A Ball of Wild, a Pile of Mischief

I blogged a week or two ago about how my formerly do-no-wrong toddler son had jumped ship from sweet and innocent to wild and crazy.  Now?  He's added mischief to the mix.  With a dash of humor for good measure.

It started a few days ago when I was making dinner.  The kids were playing in the other room, generally doing a decent job mediating squabbles and as usual, making a grand mess.  I stopped mid-stir when I heard this weird clattering sound coming from the living room.  The sound was accompanied from the (decidedly delightful) eruption of my son's giggles.

So.... weird sound + laughter = well, I'm a quasi-experienced parent... and I'm fairly good at deductive reasoning so I'll clue you in just in case you're not following yet.  It equals trouble.  It's one step from hearing a loud bang followed by silence or generally, any long stretch of silence at all that does not involve sleeping children.  (Funny how the absence of sound can be more telling than a pile of noise).

Anyway, I put the spoon down and peeked around the corner into the living room.  My son was standing on the art table, sans pants. His arms were in the air and he was CRACKING up.  Moments later, I discovered what the weird noise was AND what was tickling his funny bone.

He was reaching in the color box with both hands, pulling out handfuls of crayons, and throwing them straight up into the air with wild abandon.

Oy.  

I stood there in a sort of dumbfounded awe for a few seconds which was exactly enough time for Caly to shoot a sidelong glance around the room, and, seeing no one, to climb onto the table and gleefully join Sayer in the chaos.

Apparently, there's a new ringleader in town. He's cute, he's pants-less, and he's ready to rumble. I'm so not ready for this.

(And for the record, I am STILL finding crayons in weird places).