Melinda Morley

So here is the little story that I teased about in my last blog.

Subject: Naughty boys.

When I was a young girl, I thought brothers were obnoxious and a plague in my life meant to tempt and try me. I knew through their annoyingness I was “earning” a better life in the eternities. Thankfully, I grew up (and they sorta did) and moved to a new stage in life: sons.

I have three. Believe you me, there is never a dull moment. And if there is, I’d better go find those boys because mischief is afoot. (in the silent stage, which comes after the planning stage and before the rage stage)

Date: Sunday afternoon.

I love the peace of a Sunday afternoon, until it is interrupted by a squeal of tires and dialog like this: (I could hear it all through my open bedroom window, as I sat relaxing in my yellow chair.)

“Did you hit it?”

“I think I hit it.”

“Oh, no, run!!!” (insert giggles and stampeding into the family room to hide behind the chair)

Note to boys: I can ALWAYS see you behind the chair. Except for that one time you scared me to death, but that doesn’t count. You need a new hiding place.

I ran to the window at this point and saw a light blue minivan pull away.

Evidence: A plastic toy slingshot and a pile of little rocks on the edge of the driveway.

Ah! Those boys.

Culprits: Sam and John

I act stern. I take the weapons of minor destruction away. They sit in time out for, like, an hour, or two.

And I wonder. Were these little creatures sent to me to continue the test?

Oh, yes. But they, unlike my brothers, fill my heart with hope for the eternities. I want them to always be mine.

(Even as I speak type. The boys are running into the bathroom in their underwear with yet another pair of clothes to change into. What are they up to now?)