As I was upstairs trying to put the baby to sleep, and there were ZOOMING feet downstairs. Like the noise you make when you imitate a kitty galloping and pouncing. It was LOUD. Punctuated with giggles. That was my hint that there was bad-badness afoot. I would have let them zoom outside, but Fall has decided to come back (thank God) and thunderstorms were threatening. Sometimes they make me crazy enough to tell them to play with lightening bolts, but this was not one of those times. So, the giggles got LOUDER, and as I peeled myself away from the wee sleeping leech, there was a CRASH, and then a CRY.
Mother’s intuition is not some psychic ability, it is knowing that Zooming+Giggles=CRASH+CRY (<–Was that Algebraic? I might have impressed myself. Yes, it’s that easy)
So I run downstairs to find BEANS everywhere and, like the cartoons, people have fallen in them. I had bought a few bags of beans to let the Leech play with (in a big bowl with scoops and spoons) while we did schoolwork, and WHO KNEW that 5 and 6 year olds would love BOWLS OF BEANS?
“FINE!” I say, as I sweep them up, “BEANS for Christmas it is!”
Wow. Would beans also work for a four-year-old, because that would be so much cheaper than the animatronic dinosaur.
Kristen, you would NOT BELIEVE the amount of fun to be had with BEANS. Buy him a few bags and keep them in a lidded bowl with scoopers and spoons and little cups. I’m telling you–HOURS of silence. BUT you have to sweep up beans.
This is a beautiful thing you’ve created here, pet. You’ve inspired me.
And “Beans for Christmas” may be my new motto.
You! Hover the Mouse over my blogroll–that was TOO MUCH FUN *g*
I make you BLUSH??
It’s the sorbet, ain’t it?
If I were older you’d have me hot flashing.