My day-time buddies

For a snack today, Max and Sam had trail mix, minus all the nuts, which not only did they not eat, but they relished throwing everyone off the table.  There are a lot of nuts in trail mix, so I asked Max if he wanted to pick them up by himself, or whether he would like me to help him pick them up.  He wanted help, so I picked up much of it with him and then left a small portion for him to finish. 

 He came over to me and said, "I sick, Mommy, I want to read these books".  He was apparently too sick to pick up the rest of the nuts.  "Ooh, that's so sad Max, let's lay you down on the other couch by yourself so you can rest. We're not going to read the books while your sick". 

 He quickly recuperated, "I not sick, mommy", he said, and without another word, he went over to pick up the nuts so we could read.  

Max really loves dinosaurs right now, a right of passage I suspect.  His favorite books are, Dinosaur Bones, and Dinosaurs.  He loves to lines up all the play dinosaurs from the T-Rex to the smallest. 

 He knows many of them by name, and will often say, "Mommy, you be Stegosaurus, I be Iguanodon", and we will have a dinosaur wrestle.  then "I be Tyrannosaurus and you be Apatosaurus", and we play again.  

I was excited to cook dinosaur chicken nuggets for his lunch last week.  He helped me get them out and lined up, but had not planned on having to cook the dinosaurs in the hot oven.  He begged me to not cook them.  Being the logical person that I am, I gave him a frozen nugget to eat, thinking he'd realize why dinosaurs go in the oven.  

He managed to eat a frozen chicken nugget just fine, and came over as I put the rest in the oven.  He cried and cried for me to take them out of the oven.  His big crocodile tears and sincerity of intent definitely made me question the morality of cooking dinosaurs, even edible ones as they were.  But what was I to do.  It was already done.  

So, I took him out of the kitchen and read him some books until the food was ready.  Now, he doesn't help me prepare the dinosaurs beforehand.

By far, the least destructive activity the boys enjoy, also happens to be the noisiest.  Max arranges his wooden train.  Sam also arranges his train, a Little People one that I tied a string around so he would stop fighting Max for his. 

I can hardly get a picture of them because they go do fast.

 They race their trains around the circle of hardwood floor in our house.  Around and around the go, if the radio is on, I just go ahead and turn it off, because you can't hear anything except pounding feet and racing trains. 

 Since it's not destructive to anything other than my sanity, I actually encourage this activity.  "ooh, Sam, we don't dump the dirt out of the plants, would you like to play with your train, or play with some cars".  Sam always chooses the train.

 Surely one of the things I will miss about Max growing up is the way he sits, the way he lays on his stomach to arrange his trains just right, and his precious little fingers.   He can be so focused on such fine points.  I can't remember any of my children lining things up the way he does everything.

Could cross-legged look any cuter than this?

Love those little baby fingers.