Henry and Jonathan were arguing about who was going to get one of the new books that Aunt Melissa sent to us from her collection. (Mel-it's the Winnie the Pooh Christmas Song Book.) Finally, after going back and forth I heard Henry say, "But I the oldest!" He may "officially" be the oldest, but Jonathan is less than a minute younger.

This morning when I went to get the boys out of their beds. (They are still doing a great job by not getting out of their beds in the morning.) Jonathan put out his hand and said, "I have poop on my hand." That's sheer terror to any mother of young children. I didn't see anything and tried to reassure him that he didn't have any poop on his hand. Being the insistant one, he said it again. I smelled his hand, and it smelled like a wet dog. I had just made a comment to Rob last night that the boys are sucking on their hands and then their hands are smelly. That's what Jonathan was smelling.

Out of the mouths of babes!