I love these faces

These boys... So clearly brothers and yet soooOOoo different!



First up, Elliott--

He recently turned academia on its head with his first science fair entry, "Are all M&M bags the same?" The display, questions and free candy handouts went swimmingly, but that's not why I'm blogging.

Yesterday, we were riding in the car when Elliott--our serious, analytical child, who likes things just SO--drew my attention to a MAJOR problem: the bottom of his pant legs had gotten wet from our short, snowy, post-school walk.

He's probably used to me begging/urging him to stay calm/not freak out/get bent out of shape over something so inconsequential. I swear, I could see his brain recalculating his approach to avoid my eye roll... Then, casually, he looked at me and said, "Clean-up on aisle pants." (HA!)

I remember how excited we were when a personality started to emerge from the little lumps we call newborns. But a sense of humor?? And a dry delivery?!? Love it!

Now, Patrick--

Paddy has had his share of "I-don't-know-why-I'm-this-upset-but-did-I-mention-I'm-THREE?" moments, but for the most part, he's a pretty easy, laid-back kid. (No complaints there!)

Now, my story. Around 2 a.m. this fine day, I woke to the unmistakable sounds of Someone's Out of Bed. I got up and opened the boys' bedroom door to find Patrick standing, a little surprised, a little like he wanted to cry, in the doorway, blue blanket in-hand.

I asked him what he was doing, and with stiff lips, he muttered something unintelligible. When I questioned him further, I realized exactly what had happened: his first bed-wetting accident.

What's amazing to me is: he never cried. He was tired, but awake enough to talk quietly as I stripped him down and cleaned his shivering body in the bathroom. He even went along with it when I suggested he wear cozy PJs that did NOT depict Disney Pixar's World of Cars. (Amazing!)

Then suddenly, wide-eyed, he asked where his blue blankey was. I tried to tell him it was wet, but he couldn't believe it. He jogged back to his room, and we sat on the floor together to assess the situation. I figured he'd grab the blanket, regardless of its condition, and--come ON, he's three and just woke from a dead sleep in a puddle!--a fight would be futile. Instead, he felt the satin edges until he got to a wet spot. With a quick, calm huff, he looked up at me and reported, "Pee pee."

With that, he went right back to bed with some horribly inferior, understudy blanket and no fight! (Incredible.)