Get Ready to RRRRRRRRRUMBLE!

The boys have been wrestling.  Nonstop.  Can't keep their hands off of each other... at home, at church, during a soccer game.  It's like living with two wolf cubs, constantly tussling, and it drives me crazy.  PLEASE stop putting your brother in a headlock.  PLEASE!

Last night, while we were eating dinner, Quinn pops off with this....

Quinn: "Mom, my muscles are telling me I need to wrestle.  RIGHT NOW."
Mom: "NO, Quinn!  No wrestling  at the dinner table!"
Quinn: "But my muscles need it!  I can feel it!  They just want to go BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHHHHH". 

As a pediatric physical therapist, I find this very interesting, and actually very helpful (although I'm not about to tell Quinn that).  Because, although "BOOOOSH" might not be a medical term, he's very astute in saying that his muscles are "telling him" that they "need" wrestling.  The boys are growing fast, which affects the proprioceptors (sensory organs that relay information on body position) located in muscles and joints.  The boys are going through a stage where their brains are literally CRAVING more information from these proprioceptors - proprioceptors that are stimulated by the mechanical deformation caused by pushing and pulling.  This translates in a 7 year old boy's world as "wrestling".  Constant wrestling.  And who better to wrestle with than the overly willing twin brother whose body is going through the exact same thing at the exact same time?

I'm thinking that gymnastics may need to be in our future as well.  Really - these boys need something INTENSE, or they're going to end up hurting each other!

Boys In the Window.......

 Mom: "Boys, what are you DOING in there?"

My answer?

Uh, that's what I thought.  Playing the iPod I was charging up!

Snippets From Colby

Colby: "Mom, when I grow up, now I want to be an international spy.  International spies are real, you know.  Except that they never tell their children what their real jobs are.  I hope I remember not to tell my kids that I'm an international spy when I'm a grown up."

Mom: "Might want to write it down so you don't forget."
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Colby: "Mom, guess what?  I just saw Aunt Diane and Uncle Tom!"
Mom: "What?  Just now?"
Colby: "Yeah!  I was outside walking down the road, and Aunt Diane and Uncle Tom drove by and waved to me!"
Mom: "Uhhhh, except that they're in Minnesota right now, so it's probably not them."
Colby: "Yes, it WAS!  The lady had blond hair, the man had a moustache and they waved to me.  No one ever waves to me unless they're my family!"

That's pretty good figurin'.  Maybe Uncle Tom and Aunt Diane snuck into town without telling anyone!
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Colby: "When I grow up to be the government, I'm going to make everything free, and no one has to work."

What political system would that be?  Communism?  Anarchism?   Socialism?  I think maybe it's just straight Colby-ism.  Whatever country he's the government of - I want to live there (at least for the first year before it collapses in on itself). 
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Mom (Reading Pippi Longstocking to her sons): " 'and Pippi lived all alone with no mother or father' ".
Colby: "YEAH!"
Mom: "What???  You're cheering her being an orphan?"
Colby: "She had no parents to tell her what to do!  She could do whatever she wanted!"
Mom: "Who would tuck Pippi in at night?"
Colby: "She'd never have to go to bed!"
Mom (reading the next sentence): "and Anika and Tommy lived next door with their Mother and Father, who made sure that they went to bed on time and kept their clothes clean."
Colby: "BOOO! That's like you, Mom!  That's what you want!"

I really think I'm raising an anarchist over here.  Motherhood is such a thankless job.

No way. Nu-Unh. NEVER.

Colby: "Mom, can I have a dollar?"
Mom: "Why do you want a dollar?"
Colby: "I want to buy some 5-Hour Energy."
Mom:  "WHY do you want 5-Hour Energy?"
Colby: "Because, I'm really slow and lazy, and I need a boost."
Mom: "I believe the lazy part."

It scares me to death, even the NOTION of my boys on a drink designed specifically to increase their energy.  Holy cow.  Can you imagine??  I mean, really.  CAN YOU IMAGINE??????
{{SHUDDER}}

7 Year Stats

Well-Child visits yesterday.  Colby weighs 50 pounds, and is 49.5 inches tall.  Quinn weighs 54 pounds and is 50 inches tall.  For the record books.  That puts Colby in the 42nd percentile for weight and 63rd for height.  Quinn is in the 62nd percentile for weight and 79th for height.  Those boys are GROWING.  Fast.

Political Dreams

Colby: "Mom, when I grow up, I want to be the government."
Mom: "You want to work for the government?"
Colby: "No.  I want to BE the government, and make all the rules."
Mom: "So, you want to collect the people's money, and then allocate it to roads, schools, parks and stuff?"
Colby: "NO.  I want to make all the rules. And take all the money.  I don't want to give it back to the people."
Mom: "So, you want to be a tyrant."
Colby: "Yes.  I want to be a tyrant." 


Colby: "Mom, if I made all the rules, I would make everything free."
Mom: "So, you'll be a communist?"
Colby: "Well, I would just make nothing cost.  There would be no money. Everything in the stores would be free."
Mom: "So, how would you make sure that everyone got what they need?"
Colby: "They would just trade for it."
Mom: "Ahhhh.  A trade and barter system.  What if you had something that someone wanted, but they didn't have something you wanted?"
Colby: "Well, they could give me a little piece of gold then."
Mom: "THAT'S money."

In the course of one car ride, we went through the entire history of commerce, from hunter/gatherer to barter/trade, to gold standard, to paper money worth... well, essentially nothing.  MAN, I've got to be up to speed on any subject at a moments notice with these kids.

And it's nice to know that Colby's an aspiring tyrant.  Makes a mother proud.

Conversations on a Lake

We're getting spoiled by all these fabulous summer days.  This evening, we went out to dinner by boat with Rob's parents, and it was gorgeous.  The boys wanted to stop to swim on the way home, but Colby was sans swimsuit.  Didn't matter, really.  He stripped down to his Cars underwear, and jumped in anways.

Colby: "Mom, why don't you swim, too?"
Mom: "I would love to, buddy, but I don't have a swim suit."
Colby: "Just go in your underwear, like me!"
Mom: "That would be ugly. No one would want to see that."
Colby: "It's okay if your underwear is ugly, Mom."

Bless his little heart for thinking that I was talking about my UNDERWEAR.  No, son.  The underwear is pretty.  What's underneath??? Well..... not so good ;).