Last night, after a busy weekend of camping with their grandpa, the boys had a hard time staying in their bed. They came out of their bedroom on a regular rotation with a excuse after excuse.

“One more kiss.”
“One more hug.”
“Eskimo kisses!”
“Dad! Abbott scratched me!”
“MOM! GUYS! HEY! Can I have some ice please?”
“I need another hug please.”

After about eight trips out of their bedroom, four escorts back to their bedroom and countless threats to shut their bedroom door, they figured out how to both get out of bed and have a 15 minute conversation with each other in a room with the lights on.

“I have to potty.”
“I have to potty too.”

Seth got up to take Matty to the bathroom since Bot isn’t potty trained and shortly after he called down the hallway.

“Megan, come here. Please. Quickly. Bring your phone.”

I got up and hurried down the hallway to find Seth standing in the dark shadows, just outside the glow of the bathroom light. I quietly sidled up next to him and peaked my head around the corner. There was Matty, completely naked, perched on top of the toilet. And, to my surprise, squatting on a small plastic toilet not far away from him was a butt naked Abbott. The two of them were laughing and telling each other weird stories about bugs up their butts, belly buttons in the water, mosquitos biting their toes and the Benedryl cream that burned when we put it on.

Seth and I stood in the hallway trying hard not to laugh out loud as Matty’s stories built into elaborate and completely ridiculous tales and Abbott jumped in with the most hilarious responses.

“Once there was a belly button in the water. He was swimming, like, the whole body was in the water and I catched it. And the sun. And I saw a BIG dragonfly.”
“Yeah, you saw a big dragonfly. The big dragonfly gonna eat you!”
“But guess what.”
“The mosquito and the dragon fly and a bee went in my butt and they were dead. And I was dead.”
“You was dead? You was dead? You was dead?”
“I was dead because they stinged me. The butterfly stinged me?”
“And the bee stinged me?”
“And the mosquito binged me?”
“And Abbott stinged me?”
“I stinged you!”
“Yeah. Abbott stinged me.”

I was just telling a friend the other day that it was becoming increasingly weird watching the boys interact with each other. Abbott, my baby, isn’t a baby anymore and Matty no longer says “Dad and Mom” when asked who his friend is. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that we’re moving into a different phase. We’re moving into the phase of enjoying watching the boys be boys. And I have to admit enjoying the new experiences that come with age — play dates, organized sports, gross boy humor, super heroes, intense wrestling matches and late night storytelling on the the toilet — is much more my speed than the zombie baby phase when I was never quite sure what the fuck I was doing. 

Some people are baby people, I think the preschool phase is going to be my jam.