The Triplets

The twin terrors, aka Mason and Noah, have invited a new member to their entourage. Michael has come to play all week and the boys have been bursting with excitement to all be together. Look how sweet they're being, Sarah admired, as they sat around the kitchen table, eating their morning snack and pondering what was the crunchy ingredient in their banana nut muffins.

After their snack they trampled upstairs to play. Sarah and I stayed downstairs and bemused how easy and quiet life was when left with just the babies. Since the toy room is downstairs, I figured the triplets would make a quick retreat back down after discovering that Noah's room consists of nothing more then his furry family of friends that he sleeps with. Minutes passed before Sarah said, they're being so quiet upstairs. A good thing in theory but in the world of 3 year olds it can be a signal that trouble is brewing. We sneak upstairs and are instantly greeted in the hallway by an art project someone has created. With blue marker. On the carpet. The boys come marching around the corner in single file and it could have easily been any of the three. Michael has marker on the front of his shirt and zebra striped on his face. Mason's shirt has been decorated down his back. And Noah looks like he has been plagued with blue chickenpox on his face and arms. Well, Sarah said, at least we don't have to ask who the guilty party is. I look down at the carpet again and outside the entrance to the master bedroom the artist had signed his name in large block letters, N-O-A-H. Wow! He can already spell his name! Sarah said with excitement. My enthusiam for this milestone was little. Nor do I think will it grow each morning when I open my bedroom door and am instantly greeted by my son's name in large blaring print. My mood had not lifted when after 30 minutes of scrubbing the evidence had only dulled to a smeary green-blue version of the original masterpiece. I sat Noah down and dived into my lecture about how we draw on paper, not on floors, and certainly not on our friends. But sometimes YOU draw on your face mommy. Noah said pointing his finger at me accusingly. I laughed after I connected what he way saying. Sometimes I put makeup on my face. Girls do that to look pretty. Oh, he said, the wheels churning in his little head. But Mason, Michael, and Noah looked pretty too. There really is no winning with this kid.