Saturday mornings usually mean it's time to run errands. And that usually means I take the older boys with me while Phil stays home with the little ones.
Before I leave, I feel really good about my decision to take John-Paul & Andrew; they can have big-boy-time, Phil doesn't deserve to be left alone with all 4 kiddos, and I can spoil them just a little.
The boys are good...at the first store. But by the second store, it's all a downward spiral straight to Whineyville. "I'm hungry", "I'm thirsty", "I have to go poop" (said loudly for all to hear), "I want that toy".
By the third store, they've built up to chaotic running around like little madmen on drugs. By now, they've already had warnings, threats, and punishments, so I give time-outs in the store chairs, which works...for a couple minutes.
We pile in the van to head home, and just as I'm at my wits-end, one of them will inevitably say "That was fun, Mom. Thank you". Oh those devils sure know how to melt their mother's heart.
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