Boys

Hava — Fri, 07 Sep 2007 00:23:47 +0000

I was a nanny to 3 adorable, albeit wild boys for 10 years. I’ve seen my fair share of testosterone based actions. These were kids that would bring me to tears some days, (they like to blame it on another sibling now when they reminisce: “Remember when J*** made you cry” to which I have to respond “No, that was you”). Sometimes they were tears of laughter, like when the youngest was going through his Shirley Temple stage and decided to do an impromptu dance routine down the stairs while I was videotaping him. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a satin vest from his Dracula costume. No shirt on underneath. And he is trying to tap down the stairs. I WAS CRYING!! Or the middle child trying to set up a trap for me by pouring water all over the bathroom floor, then he saved body fluids (take a wild stab what they were) in a jar to make a magic potion. Or the oldest at the delicate age of 3 staring out the window at night telling me he could see someone outside. This was like the first time I watched them while their parents went out to dinner. I freaked out and went to the window only to have him turn and say “It’s the Devil”. Heelllllooooo Damian. You wonder why I didn’t run screaming out of that house. I love those boys for all the good and bad. I feel pretty prepared for a wild household with twins.

Then Tadd sent me this: (WARNING not for the weak hearted, non-nurses or those without children)

From the blog: Noodad

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Boys