the still small voice

Divine intervention is a must when raising boys. For example...

A: Paycen and Kaden are playing in the kitchen and I am doing dishes. I get this strong feeling to check on Paycen. So I stroll over to the boys and they both smile at me. Bad sign. Then I notice Paycen is chewing on something. I do a quick finger sweep and feel nothing. The feeling persisted. I do another finger sweep and recover a dime. That could've been disastrous. I asked Kaden, "Did you give Paycen the dime?" Kaden answered, "Yah. Paycee my piggy bank! Just pretend mom." Great! that makes it all better because you were only pretending. Kaden spent the next 3 minutes in time out.

B: I am at Corinne's getting my hair done. Corinne gets done with the color and I am under the dryer with a ton of foils in my hair. I get the feeling to check on Kaden. Which was weird because I just checked on him and he was in the garage playing on the wiggle cars with Conner (Corinne's little boy Kaden's age) So I walked over to the garage and see the two boys playing in the back of the pickup. It looked like Conner had a stick and was swinging it around. No big deal. Once again the feeling persisted and I walked closer. I noticed the stick was connected to a hose. My heart started to pound and I ran to the truck. Low and behold the stick was a sprayer and the hose was connected to a bucket of pesticide. I yank it from Conner. I look at Kaden and he is soaked. Sprayed right in the face. Not like a sprinkle, but completely saturated and the pesticide is dripping off his chin. I yell to Corinne and the next thing the boys are stripped and in the sink. I used the sink sprayer and forced Kaden's eyes open to rinse them out. Scary!

So to those of you who have two-year-olds and say the phrase "terrible twos" FYI: I would take a two-year-old over a three-year-old any day.