Why Shower and Other Summer Time Musings from Gabe

My youngest two just returned yesterday from camp with the kids from church. This was Emma's 4th year going and Gabe's first.

The youngest two are exactly that: the youngest. 

They rarely keep anything clean [their rooms, their shoes, their faces] because they've had so many people catering to them all of their lives.  Sometimes we've done it out of necessity [like it is necessary for me to gut your room because it appears you are one step from making an appearance on Hoarders] and sometimes just because they are the youngest and spoiled. [Actually, I think both of those statements said the same thing.]

Now I am not the queen of organization. [I mean, I am the queen of most everything else around here....] Ask Craig - that ship sailed a long time ago. [Honestly, I'm quite sure it never docked here anyway.]  A little clutter is ok with me [some of you just took a knee while others hyperventilate] so I don't get too upset when their rooms have some clutter.

But when your room appears as if someone backed a large cannon into the doorway and KABOOMED every thing you own [underwear, crayons, baby dolls, Legos, last week's wet bathing suit, 5 socks, and an empty Cheetos bag to name a few] all over your door, walls, bed, dresser, closet, etc. then it is time to clean up.

That is Emma and Gabe in a nutshell. [Which makes Craig go nuts.]  

But they are always clean. As in bathing every single day. And washing hands. And brushing teeth. They might be super messy kids but personal hygiene has been taught and is practiced at my house.

So you can imagine the horror I felt yesterday when Emma said this:
Gabe hasn't had a shower since Monday.

It was Wednesday. 
He'd been swimming in a lake.
Playing outside.
Wearing bug spray.
Being a boy.

I could have beat him. Right there in the church parking lot. [Incidentally, that isn't the first time I've made that statement on here or out loud.]

To make matters worse, I'm not sure he changed his clothes much.  When he brought me his dirty stack, there weren't many.  

I'm just trying not to think about it. [Seriously.] Next year I will save myself the trouble and just send him out the door with his Bible and a smile.

Last night he wanted to shoot Cooper's BB gun in the backyard.

We live in a residential neighborhood. [I mean, our neighbors at the back corner of the yard cuss like sailors, sing David Allen Coe for all of Heaven to hear, and play horseshoes at 3am but I don't want to shoot them.  Not all of the time anyway.]

Me: Gabe we can't do that here.  We will have to go down to the practice field at the high school and shoot into the woods.
Gabe: But I won't shoot anyone mom.
Me: We can't shoot near the houses honey.
Gabe: Well that is stupid.

This morning he was full of questions.

Gabe: What if flying geese poop could fly?
Me: Flying geese do poop and fly. And poop while flying.
Gabe: No. I mean, what if flying geese had poop that could fly?  What if they had flying poop?

I pray now for the 3rd grade teacher he will have this year. 

I pray now for the woman that will marry him one day.