One, Two, Four, Five, Six...

Angelic looks can be deceiving

Family gatherings are always an adventure, regardless of the location.  The most recent occurred at our house.  We are fairly child-proof here, or at least the adults are not so severely outnumbered by the munchkins that it has been a problem.  The biggest rule is to keep the basement door closed.  We do not want the twins exploring the stairs.  This, of course, means that the door is slammed multiple times throughout the gathering, though we barely notice among the other bedlam.  Some toys are housed upstairs where they are available to the mini grandgirlies.  But the ones of more interest to larger grands are in the basement.

Last week, after turning down an invitation to join them in play, those between the ages of 2 and 11 made their way down to the toys.  I am experienced enough to eliminate the "toys" that should not be available.  Their toy room is also my toy room, so sharp quilting items are put away and the sewing machine is unplugged.  There is something about that on/off switch that is a grandboy magnet.  Eliminating the lights that flash helps immensely.  All involved are well aware of the doors that may be opened and those that offer nothing for their playing pleasure.

Shortly after the crew descended, the eldest three among them, made their way back upstairs.  (Tattling is always more fun in groups.)  "Granma, Josiah is being bad.  He's going into the wrong rooms."  I joined them in their lair, where I found Josiah (3) in the gift closet.  So close to Christmas, this is not a good thing.  "And he's turning on and off you sewing machine."

"Josiah, Granma's machine is not a toy."  He acknowledged my authority with a slap to the previously unplugged machine.  Sigh.

"And he hid the TV controller behind the TV."  Easily remedied.

Josiah and I made our way upstairs, where he decided the most desirable toy available was in his sister's hands.  A short discussion ensued before his father directed Josiah to a special bench designed just for thinking.

Bryce commented at dinner that Josiah was being really bad that day, which gave me a chance to offer him some sage parental advice that he will not be able to use for another decade or two.  But for those of you who might need the help sooner, here it is.  Avoid three year olds at all cost.  Terrible twos are not that bad, and three becomes four in a year's time.  But if at all possible, skip three.

There.  Now if you figure out how to do that, let me know.  Until then, I'll just have to love him anyway.  I do love you, Josiah, and I'm looking forward to your birthday...