... that I have no life.
Let me rephrase that-- I have exactly the life I always dreamed of. I have a fantastically compassionate and beautiful wife, two CRAZY little boys, a house that only needs minor repairs, what feels like a steady job and no (diagnosed, at least) anxiety disorders.
It's just that I don't really do anything except go to (6 days a week) work or (1 day a week) church and come home, then repeat cycle. Not very interesting-- and that's ok. Because while I'm at home being uninteresting, stuff like this happens:
While attempting to bathe/ change/ rediaper two boys at once, I have LJ on his bed changing him when (surprise surprise) Judah screams. I mean really screams. Because I'm the overreacting type, I yell at LJ without even looking. He must be guilty, because he starts saying that he's sorry right away. "Sorry Judah for kicking you..." I look and behold, Judah has a red welt on his face. Seems he stuck his face a little too close to LJ's ticklish little behind and pow! got kicked in the face for his troubles. "Sorry for kicking you-- in the face" I prompt, and Elijah repeats the apology. Satisfied, I turn to continue putting his pajamas on.
"Daddy," Elijah says, "I leave footprint on his face."
And that's why my life just might be more interesting than yours after all. Have a wonderful night!
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