An hour ago, the two older boys emerged from their bedroom, post-shower, in identical, green truck pajamas. "Daddy, can you tell us apart?" asked the boy who was six inches taller and 25 pounds heavier than the boy standing next to him.
"No, I can't," I said.
"Well, I am so hungry all the time I could eat all the food in the whole entire world," the big one said.
"Well, that sounds like Joshua," I said.
"Yup, that's me," said Josh, then he ran downstairs to make himself dessert.
Matthew followed him down, and before Colin and I could get there, dessert was well underway. They had taken out a half-gallon of Breyer's vanilla ice cream and were scooping it into separate bowls. Then Matthew took his bowl, put it in the microwave and set it for four minutes. He stopped it with 3:20 to go. "Wow, it's never been hot before," he said while staring down at the soupy mix.
Next came oyster crackers. As I watched in awe, Matthew pulled a package of oyster crackers from the drawer, ripped it open and dumped it in the ice cream bowl. "Really?" I asked him. He just looked at me. Next he got out the gallon of milk and poured milk on top of the ice cream and crackers. Finally he sat down to eat.
Josh followed his lead, also putting the ice cream in the microwave and then pouring milk on top of it. No oyster crackers for Josh. After two bites, Matthew said to himself, but loud enough so we could all hear, "Actually, this isn't very good."
"Mine is so good!" Josh said while devouring his vanilla soup. Colin of course screamed for his own bowl. I set him up between his brothers with a nice dish of cold ice cream and a plastic spoon, but a minute later the spoon flew across the room and hit me. Apparently Colin was having a hard time scooping cold ice cream with plastic, so I forgave the spoon-throwing and helped him finish the bowl with a fresh metal spoon.
The final noteworthy moment was at the very end of the night. Jenn was upstairs with Josh and I was downstairs working on the kindergartner's homework. Colin climbed down the stairs, saw us doing homework, and wandered into the kitchen. He came back a moment later with the electric mixer.
When we finished Matthew's homework, I told the boys it was time for bed. Up we went — me, Matthew, Colin and the mixer, firmly lodged in the boy's grip. I said goodnight to Matthew and brought Colin into his room. He walked to the crib, lifted up the mixer and dropped it over the bars, onto his mattress. I turned out the light, sang one verse of "Twinkle, twinkle little star," then put Colin into the crib. In the dark, he reached out, pulled the mixer close to his chest and curled into a ball. I fluffed out a blanket, let it fall over the boy and the mixer, said good night and left the room.
I haven't told Jenn about it yet. I probably should before she goes to check on him and discovers a kitchen appliance in the crib. But I won't. It'll ruin the surprise.