Son number three is currently pacing back and forth telling me MORE installments of his endless adventures as Kell Payne: super-hero of mystery! (except the hourly updates of Mr. Payne’s abilities and escapades render him perfectly UNmysterious to me)

His pacing back and forth while he babbles incessantly in a stream puncuated with “hey mom, didja know that…” is making me wish I had a drink in my hands. I rub my head, say “uh huh” and “rilly? wow that’s amazing” about 50 times until I’m ready to scream.

Finally, after about 30 minutes of this exquisite torture, it comes to me…eldest son arrived home with 12 donuts. Last look beheld one and a half donuts left. Three children. One donut for me. That means…

“Son,” I say to son number three, interrupting his spiralling chatter long enough for him to fix his huge hazel eyes on me with brow raised. “you have had too much sugar. I’m talking about the donuts.” His brow raises even higher for a second and then lowers again in deep thought.
“Son, I think you need to go downstairs and run all around the room.”

He nods at me with a very serious look.

“and son,” he pops his head back in the doorway to look at me quizzically, “be sure to jump up and down on the couch a few times too”

“Right,” he says.

Door closes with a quiet >click<