The boys were being terrible this past weekend. No matter what we were doing, they were nattering after each other, so my wife and I divided to conquer. She went shopping with one and I went to a park with the other.
2 hours later we met back, both relieved and sighing, “One is soooo easy.”
I love my youngest son unconditionally, that’s not up for debate. But … but … but .. sometimes I wonder how much less stress would be in my life if we had just stopped at 1.
Last night we had an early dinner at a gorgeous beachside cafe. Our oldest crashed in the car on the ride over, and stayed asleep while I carried him in to the restaurant and laid him on the bench of our booth. After about 20 minutes, my wife asked me to wake him up.
“Why?!?” I exasperated.
Our youngest was having a blast playing with cars on the table, she and I were enjoying conversation over chilled drinks and there was no refereeing to be done between our charges. Why on earth would I disturb this peace?
I love my boys and wouldn’t change a thing about them other than perhaps to just experience their awesomeness one at a time instead of in a giant ball of havoc.
I can’t imagine what it would be like with 3. Or 4. Or more.
The day I got the vasectomy was the 4th greatest day of my life only beaten by the day I got married, and the days my sons were born.