living loud

Tonight after dinner the boys were going crazy.
They are generally rather loud.  I mean, I'm sure our house registers as just regular raising-small-humans loud, but tonight's noise level made it difficult to find any flash of sanity amidst the mayhem.
Tonight the volume was so high I thought I might actually Van Gogh my own ears.

Instead I asked the boys to find a quieter activity while I cleaned up the kitchen -- Andy spent the day making chili, and dinner was delicious, but there were about thirteen pots to wash and the entire stove and butcher block area to scrub.  And I needed to reclaim some peace.

Tucker climbed down from his doorway perch, picked up a book about math and immediately became immersed.  He soon moved to the desk where he could work on making factor trees.
And Tolliver sat on the couch reading out loud, using a pleasant, inside voice.  He ran into the kitchen to ask for help on certain pages, but got through two short stories, mostly on his own, mostly a result of memorization from repetition.  Still, he was clearly feeling very proud of his emerging language skills.

We put the boys to bed a short time later and as I watched their sweet moon faces drift to sleep, I could actually hear the voice in my head, the one that's hard to hear when they are awake and active, whisper something about being the luckiest mom in the world.

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