Bedtime Shenanigans

Tonight, we had leftovers for dinner. The boys had pork chops with Spanish rice (or "Bullfighter Casserole" if you're a toddler in my house), and Chicken Parm for the adults. As I was getting the kids' plates dished up, I asked my husband if he would like me to reheat ours after the children went to bed, affording us a dinner alone--something we've been fantasizing about. He was game for waiting, so that's what we did.

While we were eating, I heard giggling coming from the boys' bedroom. Ignore it, you're having a romantic leftovers dinner alone with your husband, said the little voice in my head. So I ignored it for a while. After a few more minutes, my curiosity overpowered me and I was headed upstairs to check it out.

Standing outside their door, I realized that Luke was not in his bed, but in George's crib. I stood there for a minute listening to them and trying to stifle my own laughter. And then I whipped out my camera phone and started recording (you can't see them, but you can hear them):

And then a minute later, it sounded like this:

If you couldn't understand what you were hearing, Luke was telling George around 12 seconds that we're going to have pancakes in the morning.

Oh fiddlesticks*, I thought, Why did I read Curious George Makes Pancakes to them at bedtime? Now Luke's gone and told George that we're having pancakes in the morning!

You remember when Luke got Curious George Makes Pancakes, right? No? You have your own life? Oh, right.

Anyway, I tiptoed downstairs and finished my dinner while Joe and I laughed over the videos. A few minutes later we heard footsteps upstairs and assumed the fun was over. A few minutes later, while Joe was at the bottom of the stairs getting his coat to take the dog on a walk, he saw Luke standing at the top.

"Can you tell George to quit picking my nose?" he asked with a preemptively grateful smile on his face.

"Can I tell George to quit picking your nose?" Joe repeated.

I butted into the conversation. "George can't pick your nose if you're in YOUR bed," I pointed out.

The smile faded from his face as the wheels started turning and he realized he'd been busted. What did he think, that it was going to go over our heads and we were going to march upstairs and enforce a "No Picking Your Brother's Nose" rule, then go back downstairs and resume picking the bugs out of each other's hair and eating them?

Kids--they're not the brightest.

Well, I hate to cut this short, but it is now two and a half hours after the time I put them to bed, and Luke has just been caught "practicing going up the stairs backwards." Bye.

* Sometimes you have to edit your inner monologue when your mother reads your blog.