High Pressure Salesmen

Quinn and Colby are selling popcorn for the Cub Scouts, so WATCH OUT.  Tonight, cousin Chuck and grandma and grandpa Aho came over for dinner, and the boys were hot on their heels for a sale.

Here's their shpeel:
"Hi, my name is (insert name and adorable 6-year old boy look here).  Would you like to buy some popcorn for the cubscouts?"

Grandma was an easy sell.  I think she said something like "Of course!  You're so cute!  You're my favorite salesman".  So that built the boys' confidence up, and they ran outside to make a sale to Grandpa and Chuck.... WHILE they were taking a sauna.  Not being able to firm up the deal (no pens or $$ there when you're in nothing but a towel), they brought it up again at dinner.  Mom told them to wait.  AFTER dinner, they were all over our guests yet again.  Talk about high-pressure!!  It worked, though.  Three overly-priced bags of popcorn sold to three different guests.  Then they hit Dad up, and he gave them a tenative sale, but ended it with "See Mommy for a check."

I DID overhear the boys say "WOW!  We're RICH!", and was quick to point out that this was NOT their money, but the troop's. 

Conditional Love

I spent the other afternoon sewing Quinn's Halloween costume.  He was grateful, and made me this lovely thank you note.  It says (and I quote): "Hui My Name its Quinn  I luve u bkus u sode my cosum" (Translation, for all of you out there who don't read 6-year-old-boy: "Hi.  My name is Quinn.  I love you because you sewed my costume.")

Before you go all googly and sappy, saying "AAAAWWWWWWWW" like I did, I should tell you that as he handed me the note, he said "but if my costume doesn't turn out good, I'll have to rip that up."

Wah-HUH?

Voices

It's become apparent to me how much I rely on the boys' voices to tell them apart.  When they're yelling down the stairs.  When they're yelling from the kitchen.  When they're yelling in the yard.  When they're yelling (is that SUPPOSED to be talking?) at the dinner table.  My Mom-sense is totally screwed up.  Because I'll hear a miscellaneous boy calling for his blanky at bed-time, and I'm thinking it's Colby, because it's Colby's VOICE, and when I get upstairs, I find I've brought "snuggly blanky" to the kid who's already asleep, and "green blanky" is still downstairs.  And there sits a disappointed Quinn, wondering why his mother has flipped her lid, and can no longer tell her children apart unless they are within eyeshot. 

Dang!  Wonder if it will stay like this forever???

The Tell-Tale Voice

The easiest and most immediate way most people tell the boys apart is by their voice.  Quinn's has always been much huskier than Colby's, even when they were babies.  Well, Quinn had his tonsils out today, and you know what?  His voice is higher now.  He sounds like COLBY! When I mentioned his voice change, he was very offended. "I do NOT sound like Colby!"   Rob walked into the room just now and said "Weird, Quinn sounds like Colby now!"  So, for all you people out there that  have relied on your ears rather than your eyes to tell our boys apart.... you're out of luck.  Tonsilectomies made Colby's voice deeper and Quinn's higher, and they are now the same.  Start searching for those tell-tale scars, y'all. 
 

Dinner Conversation

Dad:  "Man, am I sore"
Mom: "That's because of all those pull-ups you did yesterday."
Quinn: "DAD?!?!?!  You wear PULL UPS?????"

Shameless Braggin'

OK.  I'm going to brag on the boys a bit, because I'm proud of them, and also because I want to make sure and document the GOOD things they do, and not just those "I'll laugh at this someday" moments....
Found out yesterday that Quinn and Colby are in the two highest reading groups at school.  Colby is in level "E" (don't ask me what that means... Colby just said that things go from level A to E), and Quinn is in "D".  They brought home little books and read them like nobody's business!  Their Scholastic book order came in, and both boys were reading chapter books by themselves at the dining room table for a good chunk of time yesterday afternoon.  Good Job, sons!   Read read read!

The Offense

I gave Quinn a time-out today.  A well-deserved, "get in your room before I do something I regret" time-out.  The offense?  I had come home from work today to a DESTROYED house.  Moonsand, groceries, food, peanut butter and jelly, toys, clothes --- EVERYWHERE.  Really.  Tornado-hit-the-place filthy.  Colby dumped an entire container of moonsand onto the floor in front of me as soon as I walked in the door, and then said "It's okay mom.  I'm getting the broom and cleaning it up."

I said "Thank you, Colby.  Because I'm not your maid. And I'm not a slave.  Do you all think that's my job?  To spend my entire life cleaning up after you?"

Colby was wise, and said "no.".  Quinn immediately answered "YES."

He was REALLY lucky a time-out was all he got.  It's Sunday, so I took it easy on him.