Seriously?

After dinner, as I wash the dishes and do normal motherly duties (not to say they couldn't be fatherly too - just that E hasn't seen P all day, so..), E and P play. Seriously play. There is shrieking, laughing, running, strange voices, toys everywhere and, quite often, at least one set of bruises per night. Typically, Froggy is involved for a while, until his, um, ornery personality pisses P off. Then there is typically a brief, imaginative break, during which E is not E. Like tonight (I'm sick and therefore get to skip matronly chores in lieu of butt sitting) I hear gruff voices and a child astride my husband's back saying, "Go find Grams, Bear, but you may not eat her." Then, shortly thereafter, "Bear, go find Froggy." And, whalah, E is busy doing two voices, alternating a falsetto Frog and a grizzly Bear. Occasionally P becomes so involved in the play that I hear E cry out in pain... The Little Man having chomped on the irritating Frog, forgetting Papa's fingers lie within...

Well, as I walked the laundry through the kitchen (back in Brooklyn, before our trip to Kansas) one night, there were the boys (seen above), doing... ummm, I don't know. But they were taking whatever it was quite seriously, no? I heard the word "guard" tossed around as I put up the towels...

P gets unbelievably frustrated with his father (they are two peas in a pod and therefore butt heads beautifully), I just hope he realizes at the same time how lucky he is to have such a perfect playmate.