sons of the father

I don't need any more children. I don't know if I will have any more but I am absolutely, perfectly content with my two little boys. Yesterday afternoon Johnny smilingly brought me the hinge off the back door in three pieces. I nodded sagely and put them back together. You see, Tommy had done the exact same thing at about this age. I spent about two months reassembling hinges in our Madison house, now it's like second nature. My beloved mother-in-law recalls similar incidents at her house about 32 years ago. This morning my husband walked outside to find an armadillo in the front yard, he immediately rushed to take a picture for the boys to see. (unfortunately it's kind of blurry and bigfoot-ish) He spent his lunch hour looking up better pictures on the Internet and talking about armadillos in our sunny kitchen. They ate it up. Tommy followed me around quoting made up facts about aardvarks for ten minutes. Tommy told me how the satellite station near our house that looks like an oversize golf ball is for when giants play golf and that only giants are taller than Daddy. He insists his hair be "mohawked" every day for school. He also insists that I make his brother's hair "crazy". Johnny, when being pursued for a diaper change, will wait until I reach him, drop to his knees, crawl between my legs and away at full speed, giggling hysterically. He toddled (video soon) around my house yesterday nursing an apple, he worked on it for close to two hours. They wrestle, they shout, they giggle, they snuggle, they whine, they climb, they take-apart, but never put back-together, they whisper only when completely inappropriate, they sing their own words to hymns. They are three-of-a-kind. These boys are all that I need in this world. or the next.