Jeff didn't come home from work today. In his place was a big ball of stress in a Jeff suit. Work had him all keyed up and nothing was able to make him relax. Although I had a lot to do once the kids went to bed, I sat on the couch beside him and watched some TV. As we watched some fairly entertaining and definitely mindless show, we heard the boys upstairs. They went to bed an hour ago, yet we heard them banging around and talking. At one point they went to get a cup of water from the bathroom. I was worried it was for some creative and/or sinister purpose, but Jeff assured me it was probably for consumption purposes only. Either he believed that or he really didn't want to get off the couch.
A while later, I heard little footsteps on the stairs. We paused the TV and asked who was there. As soon as he heard that the tones of our voices were safe, he sped up to a chipper sprint into the living room. He stood there with a big grin on his face. His zip-up one piece footy pajamas were stuffed full of blankets. He looked hilarious. Jeff and I lost it. We laughed until tears fell from our eyes and our sides literally hurt. He had stuffed two blankets into size 5T pajamas. Instead of being all in the front, he did an excellent job of distributing the bulk all around. He didn't look like a kid with a pillow under his shirt. He looked obese. He looked... hilarious.
Once we pulled it together, we made him do a turn so we could check out all angles of his handy-work and sent him back to bed.
Much needed comic relief.
It came at a good time since just a few hours earlier he got in serious trouble, complete with a spankin' from Daddy, for pushing his brother's head under the bathwater. No joke. I know I've said it before, but I don't know how boys survive to ever become men.
From an attempted drowning and major discipline session to an oomp-loompa kid with two blankets in his pj's in 2.5 hours. That's parenthood for ya.