My Dude Brood

So I decided I need to start documenting all of our family adventures now that we have added Dexter and Crosby to the mix of Morrisons.  I no longer have just the Fletcher Files to keep up with, but I also have The Dexter Daily and The Crosby Chronicles to document as well.  There are too many hilarious moments and comments that need to be preserved in ink, especially because I do not always adequately appreciate them in the moment.  So here begins the tales of My Dude Brood as I am obnoxiously, irrevocably outnumbered in my home.  I am not sure where the confidence to keep up with this project comes from, particularly when you consider the fact that my diligence to The Fletcher Files quickly fizzled out.  I think I may have succeeded in document his birth?

Perhaps I am motivated by my quest for solitude, in the name of nostalgia, so I can fondly remember the fun of these moments of my life when they are no longer clouded by the exasperation life with three boys under five can bring. The vivid, daily adventures of poop on the carpet, wails of protest over nap times, finding puddles of urine in the pantry, discovering a nearly overflowed bathtub while the water still runs full blast, 4am Cinnamon Toast Crunch raids in the pantry, frantically estimating the amount of inedible items consumed by toddlers followed by angst over whether to call Poison Control will soon fade to dusty memories shrouded by the new moments of life.  As irritating as the perpetual fist-fights, screaming matches, and proclamations of "You're not my best friend!" can be, I want to remember the more humorous refrains heard through our home just as often as the ones that grate on your nerves.  Shall we never forget the giggles induced by Dexter's famed song and dance, "My penis, my booty" or his nightly lullaby request for "Stinkedy Doo-Da".  It's hard to forget Fletcher's prayer for God to give mommy a penis or the way he morphs his male anatomy into high-flying airplanes or extends its length with the bottle of shampoo or anything else within arm's reach in the shower.  My favorite current event is the donning of superman capes accompanied by Superman's theme song ringing out from young lungs.  I would be remiss if I didn't mention Fletcher's dogged insistence on misquoting Woody's rant to Buzz Lightyear While his constant insistence that he is always right and I am always wrong is mildly irritating it mostly yields entertaining nuggets such as, "And another thing.  Stop with this spaceman thing.  It's getting on my nerds!" Often he does deliver the line not only flawlessly but even in the proper setting, such as quoting Despicable Me's lovable villain, Gru, directed at random strangers in the grocery store while wielding an imaginary gun.  "Hey, what are you lookin' at? BOO-YA!"
And like all other endeavors in my life right now, I am calling it quits early because I can no longer ward off the tears, interruptions, and complaints from the peanut gallery.  I shall end with a direct quote from Fletcher, "Shoot mommy because she is really mad right now."  Thanks, Dexter, for redeeming the moment and saying, "She's not really mad cuz I cheer her up". 

Over and out.