More Kids? Hmmm.

Every now and then, the subject of having more children comes up in conversation - like last night when Baby Girl was on the bed with Mama being all cute. The Little Mr. splashed around in our tub with at least a dozen monster trucks and various other toys. The tub was so full of stuff - like a little pond with a layer of lily pads - that you couldn't see the bottom.

Stephanie asked if I was sure I didn't want to have more kids. At those moments it's hard to say for sure. They really know how to brighten the day with their laughter, playing, and learning. I was tempted to say, "Okay. But just two more kids and that is it."

Then this morning The Little Mr. threw one of his classic tantrums - the one where he goes to time-out and on the way screams out the usual, "Dammit! Stupid! I'm not your friend! Dammit!" He wants to make sure he gets his money's worth in that time-out chair so he let's it fly. He continues practicing his ever growing knowledge of the English language while sitting in the laundry room with the door closed - wondering if maybe we will give him a prize for proper pronunciation. When we don't come in with a trophy or blue ribbon for him, he starts repeatedly kicking the washing machine just lightly enough not to dent it, but loud enough for it to be annoying.

Yes. I think I'm done having kids. Still not sure, though.

After he left for school - where he apparently never behaves like a wild animal - Baby Girl and I had the whole place to ourselves. A little bit of Clifford the Big Red Dog and a cup of milk and the house, for the most part, was quiet. We played a little and attempted to read a story (she likes to hold the book like it's on fire). I then decided I should probably soak up the coffee in my stomach with some cereal and a banana. Halfway through my breakfast she decided it was time to fumigate the downstairs for any live insects and unwanted varmints. It has been almost four years of diaper changing and I still try to hold my breath and finish eating. It's impossible to eat that way so I abandoned my cereal and carried her upstairs, arms outstretched like she was a biohazard waiting for decontamination. Another day, another soggy bowl of cereal.

Yes. I think I'm done having kids. Still not sure, though.