This morning, as David was reading aloud from the scriptures, Leah kept saying, "Dad! Dad! Dad!" Finally, after the sixth or seventh time, he paused mid-verse. "Yes, Leah?"
"I'm being quiet!" she said.
Then there's Matthew. He likes to say my name. A lot. Mostly in threes. "Mom! Mom! Mom!"
It's like he just wants to do a sound check. Can you hear me over there? Back row? Good. Resume playback.
He also wants things done on his terms, which means I can offer to help him with something and he will say no. Three seconds later (after I've sat down, of course) he's yanking on my arm going, "Mom! Mom! Mom!" and asking for whatever it is I just offered to do.
Last time he did this to me I said, "Matthew, I just offered to help you and you said no. What makes you think I'll help you now?"
From the other room Michael piped up, "He's just trying to make it harder for you to be a mom!"
Oh, is that it? Because that explains a lot.
Like why my kids only want to drink from cups of a certain color and why they like to hide my car keys and run with scissors. And why going to the bathroom attracts them from all parts of the house. I honestly wouldn't know what to do if I didn't have at least twenty toes peeping under the door while I availed myself of the facilities. Michael even likes to slip me pages of artwork. And once he slid the i-pad under the door. I guess he was hoping I would forget he'd already met his electronic devices time limit for the day and he could dupe me into typing in the pass code.
Instead I snatched it from his surprised fingers and said, "Thanks! I'm going to be another fifteen minutes."
Sorry, kid. Finders keepers.
And you should know better than to hand me an entertainment device if you ever want me to come out of the bathroom.