I know that I am the only female surrounded by a sea of testosterone, but yet I am still amazed at what the other members of my family are either capable of, or incapable of (*depending on the circumstances).
Last night, as is my evening ritual, I retired upstairs after dinner to make some Arbonne calls. The boys know this is Mom's time and unless there is significant amounts of blood, fire or broken bones, do not bug me until I come back downstairs. It has taken me a while to train them, and while we do have the occasional "Opps, I forgot", they do quite well.
Christopher is no exception to this rule. He's cute and cuddly and all that, but the folks on the other end of the phone do not always agree with my assessment. He was in good hands, being watched by the caring eyes of his father and two adoring big brothers.
Or so I thought.
I hang up after one call and I can hear Christopher crying. Its his "I'm stuck and it hurts to crawl out" cry. I go investigate. I find:
Chris crawling around the dog's room, crying, with a mouth full of dog kibble (ICK!)
The door to Steve's office closed
All 3 other men in my life holed up in said room
The TV on with two little boys doing Idol Worship infront of it
The Computer on with Steve looking like Johnnie Bench
and I ask...
Where's the baby??
No one responds to me the first time - so I ask again - where's the baby?? Do any of you realize he is NOT in this room??
None did... truly... they all thought he was in the room with them. No one noticed that he had crawled out of the room, that the door had been shut (like closing the bard door after the horse escapes) nor did anyone hear him crying...
So much for built in babysitters, huh?
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