The Almighty Dollar

I think it's only appropriate to name the boys for my blog.  There are 3 of them, one 7 year old, and two almost 5 year olds.  My 7 year old, Captain Competitive,  is a spitting image of his father... feisty, self motivated, a rule follower except when it comes to winning. He'll do anything to win.  Twin A, aka Good Time Charlie,  is destined to be president of a frat house one day . He is very concerned about how far he can spit and pee, but not very concerned about following the household rules.  He's all about the moment and not so much about the future.  And then there's Sir WhineALot.  He came out whining and has never stopped. I keep thinking he'll outgrow it, but so far no luck. 

Sometimes, ok most of the time, I feel like I'm living in a frat house.  My home sometimes looks like the frat houses I remember at FSU.... messy, disorganized, but thankfully not smelly.  If you walk in my house, you will find nerf bullets stuck to the second floor cathedral windows (we don't own a 20 ft. ladder, so I decided they make great boy mom decor), a small stuffed dolphin stuck on the 2nd floor family room fan (also which I can not reach), superheros in my kitchen drawers, legos in the toilet,  an old blanket thrown across the entry way chandelier, lovely crayon wall drawings they think I haven't seen.... you get the picture, right?  Lodging things across the house and decorating the walls seem to be favorites over here at Alpha Gamma McVey.

A few Sundays ago, Good Time Charlie and Sir WhineALot took Alpha Gamma McVey to a whole new level.  It started as just another day in paradise.  I was doing what felt like the 50th load of laundry for the weekend while the boys played on the driveway.  Here in the Midwest, we all have refrigerators in the garage to store the usual items... bottles of water, juice boxes, lemonade, beer, wine, etc.  Driveway sitting is one of my favorite past times, so the fridge is usually stocked.  On this particular day, I walked out to check on the boys to find Good Time Charlie neatly arranging glass beer bottles on the edge of the driveway.  Sir WhineALot was the supplier and distributor from the fridge, Good Time Charlie the organizer. I admit they make a great team.  By the time I had gotten there, they had took 7-8 beer bottles out of the fridge and had them neatly aligned near the street.  Without losing my cool, I asked, "Whatcha doing boys?"  They looked at me like I was an idiot, the look that says "what does it look like we are doing mom?"  Sir WhineAlot says with absolute certainty, "We sellin' beers for dollars".  I am now quite horrified that they have skipped over the juice boxes and lemonade and water in the fridge, and gone straight for the beer.  Good Time Charlie must have noticed the look of shock on my face, so he says in a very annoyed voice, "We not DRINKIN' it mom, we just SELLIN' it, you know, for dollars."

At this moment, all my parenting abilities seemed to come to a halt. There is nothing in the manual that says how to handle your 4 year olds beer stand, or how to explain that "just sellin' it, not drinkin' it" is just wrong in so many ways.  I could have gone into a long discussion about how lemonade would have been a better option, but honestly,  I was secretly pleased that they had figured out that beer sells for DOLLARS, not CENTS like lemonade. They were putting their future economical skills to good use.   So I just put the beer back in the fridge, tried not to let them see me laughing,  and thought that this memory will stay with me forever.  Even when they are  DRINKIN'  the beer, hopefully far in my future, I will look at them and remember their 4 year old little voices telling me they "just SELLIN' " it. 

Cold beer anyone? Cute twins to go with.  See you in the driveway!