Underwear dining

So, I call the two younger boys up from the basement for lunch today.

The five-year-old comes up wearing a shirt and sweatshirt zipped up with the hood securely in place.

And no pants.

My 13-year-old looks at me and dryly says, "I don't think I can eat under these conditions. I think we can at least enforce a basic dress code for lunch which should include pants."

Snowmen belong inside

We have a big backyard. 

From the house to the back fence is quite a haul. Especially for a 5-year-old

He was out with a brother making various snow beings -- a dog, a man, a... I'm not sure.

Next thing we know, he is standing outside the back sliding glass door. He opens it and stands there with an expression that says - "You are going to love this."

It's a massive snowball. Actually, snow boulder would be a better description. He has rolled it from the back fence to the back door. My guess is that he didn't expect it to grow that large.

He wants to roll it inside.

"What are you doing?" dad says.

No response.  Just a look that says, "What does it look like I am doing genius? I am building a snowman to put in the house."

"You put that thing back outside. It's going to wreck the wood floor I put in," dad says firmly.

No response. With a look of pure disgust (and agitation that we obviously have no sense of fun or taste in winter decor), he closes the door. 

A few minutes later, he appears at the back door with a smallish boulder (largish snowball).

"No, no, no," yells dad meeting him at the door. "Do not bring all that snow inside!"

Away the five-year-old goes.

A minute later, he opens the door, and walks in with a snowball the size of a baseball. He drops it on the floor. He turns around, walks out and slams the back door shut.

There you go. Size matters.

He's headed for Mexico!

Our 8-year-old was trying to get his 5-year-old brother to leave him alone. What better way than to tell his little brother that we are all going to Mexico.

Can't say I follow the logic. But, whatever.

As I am reading the paper at the kitchen counter, here comes the 5-year-old lugging a heavy overnight suitcase.

"Mom, I'm ready to go to Mexico," he says.

"Uhmmmm... (pause). Who told you we were going to Mexico?" I ask.

"Zayd. So I packed. But you can't carry this. It is too heavy for you," he says.

The five-year-old shows me the contents of his suitcase. He has all of the essentials: Two stuffed animals, four books, a blanket and his swimsuit. 

He has obviously been to Mexico before.