treasured

The boys, all three of them, have been playing this treasure hunt game.  It seems to involve pirates and leprechauns and gold coins and the occasional marching band cymbaleer.  Tuck sits for lengthy periods of time, drawing maps that depict trails around chairs with four legs and tables with six, past doors with eight glass panes and between toy baskets filled with balls.  Tolliver wanders around making mean pirate faces and loud pirate noises, raising his shoulders and lifting his arms in a way that makes him appear larger than he is, searching for the two xylophone sticks that mark the spot.  Andy pulls a book from the shelf, Pirates Don't Change Diapers, an impromptu read aloud that also serves as a let's-sit-down-for-a-minute opportunity.  Like pirates, the boys have a way of plundering every last ounce of energy we have.  Discarded paper and metal pot lids litter the floor, the room is full of pink cheeks and laughter, lickable fingers and chocolaty lips.  The boys have discovered a small pot of treats, and Andy is off to make another pot of coffee before the next round.