I'll never forget.

Saturday after Thanksgiving my brothers decided to come out to our house to go shooting in the wilderness that lies just beyond our street. That meant the sisters-in-laws and children would all get hang out at my house for the day. By choice of course, we don't tend to drag the kids out to the bitter cold easily.

Wyatt, Andrea, Olivia, Calvin, and new baby Everett arrived earlier than everyone else. We decided to give Olivia and Calvin a bath to start the day. Olivia accidentally turned on the water jets when the water level wasn't high enough to cover them. As water shot up and out with tremendous force I heard poor Calvin screaming for help as Andrea snatched him out of the tub and comforted him.

I laughed the entire time because my kids had done the exact same thing the first time they used the tub. It took a month for me to convince them I could prevent the jets from spraying them again.

A short time afterward, we discovered that Calvin had found prescription medication and had put them in his mouth. We believe he spit them out, as they do taste terribly bitter, and mushed pieces were all over as evidence they weren't swallowed. Nevertheless, we called poison control who assured us this medication wouldn't hurt him, even if he had managed to swallow several. (which we still don't think he did swallow any.) I didn't laugh this time, obviously since calling poison control isn't funny, but I did try to remind them that I had children too and, as long as Calvin was ok, there was no real harm done to my house or me. (I told them of the time I had to call poison control twice in one week because Susanna had eaten vitamin C pills and also drank fingernail polish removal. I told them how I kept expecting child services to show up that week.)

Soon after, Andrea commented on our Christmas tree and how unlikely it would be to keep Calvin away from it. I made a careless comment how I was sure he wouldn't bother it. She said, "you've forgotten what it was like to have a 2 year old boy".

Ha! As if I could forget! When I had a two year old boy, which was 9 years ago, I swore I would NEVER forget. I called Alex my "wild-child" due to his endless energy, ability to get into stuff, and he constant talking and questions. I do remember visions of my bookcases with books at the top half of the shelves, Christmas trees with decorations at the top half of the tree, nothing that could be tipped, dropped, smashed, or in anyway even reached.

I remember the kid who could unload an entire closet before I even realized he was too quiet. I remember the kid who climbed up the walls with his feet to reach the ceiling, but then was too scared to get down. I remember the kid who while jumping on my bed, landed in the wrong angle and bounced straight into the wall. I remember the sound it made as he hit the wall and slid down, only to (eventually) return to jumping on the bed. I remember the kid who dumped so much water out of the tub, I finally threatened him with showers if he couldn't keep it INSIDE the tub.

And when the blessed day came when he was finally three years old, and the terrible twos were behind us, I came to an almost immediate realization that the "threes" were gonna be even more wild and chaotic. Boys, at least my boy, and it looks like Calvin too, are indeed made of puppy dog tails. Always moving, usually smacking or knocking something over, but also a source of wonderful joy.

By the way, Wyatt and Andrea, please come back to my house. I do remember what it's like in that fond, older, only remember the better times way. And when you do come back, I'll tell you how I found Calvin in my pantry with the door shut and the lights off while he explored inside.