these days as the boys are getting bigger. Seriously a'shaking. Hearing them merely walk around in the upstairs sounds like a group of circus bears practicing for their next performance.
And then, if any jumping or wrestling or Spiderman moves begin to occur, hold onto your sconces! The china in the china cabinet trembles and the fan pulls clank together. The cats dart around furtively and a small pulse in my left temple begins the riverdance known to moms worldwide. A virtual earthquake on my second floor.
I know the testosterone must demand a certain amount of attention. That is what the woods and even the driveway are available for---running around out there. Hollering and waving weapons at one another are also allowed. Not in the bathrooms. Not in the hall. Not in the bedrooms. Not at all, not at all.
Seuss even agrees.
So I am spending some time these days at the bottom of the stairs perfecting my yee haw call to remind the natives that treading softly is a practice well perfected for boys to be men. You might as well start now.