The Three Toileteers

One day left of break, and I dare say it's ending just in time. T, the boys and I decided that never again will we stay local; if we have to walk, we will migrate south! It was 27 degrees at one point today, Jack and I have bad colds, I sound like a man, and Jack and Ol are very nearly an enmeshed, old married couple.

They love and fight, snuggle and bicker. They refuse to break up, even momentarily. During the highs, they have conversations like:

"Can I marry Jack?"

"No, he's your brother and that's too closely related."

"Can I live with him and not marry anyone?"

"Sure, if that's what y'all decide."

"Jack, we're not having kids."

"I know. No kids. They're too much work."

Oliver did once say that he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad with no kids. Essentially, he wants a sugar daddy. Terrific. We are raising ambitious titans! At least he is consistently on-message.

During the lows, each blames the other for everything, including the weather.

"You are the meanest brother/bwutha ever."

And then hugs and kisses and WWF-type wrestling and displays of bare butts and putting each other's (clean, thank god) underwear over their heads and faces like Hanna Andersson-designed balaclavas. Watch out, Pussy Riot!

An easily roped-in friend (love this kid)

Our Magna-Tile collection has been repeatedly used to build castles, the floating lands of Pandora (we watched the family-friendly version of Avatar over break, and the kids loved it!) and a shocking array of highly-detailed coffins. Because I don't care to worry about the utter morbidity of this architectural foray, I have decided to simply applaud the incredibly creative designs of their funerary boxes which include hinged doors protecting the bodies and aerodynamic exterior shells should they need to be launched into space.

I mean, maybe these two should just ride off into the forever-roommate sunset together. It could be worse! I am so happy they are the best of pals.

I have been named the third Toileteer, gifted with a Triple-T cape just like the one Jack designed for both him and Ol. Apparently we are super-heroes, and my power is laser pee. Jack's is morning poo (he can build a wall to protect us) and Ol's is toxic farting (his gas can repel). 

It's great I've been included?

Ol received the coolest bat wings for his birthday and has perfected his sleeping bat pose. I find this enormously adorable.

Today we saw Cinderella (the boys and I plus Underwear-head and his sib/mom) which the kids all thought was "OK. Not as good or funny as the original." but which I loved. Seriously, I cried. Fucking fairy tales. 

I took my man-voice to the gym and really threw my trainer for a loop before returning home to make ninja shortbread cookies with the munchkins. House of Cards seems wildly appealing now- all dark salaciousness that also happens to be very real.