Living With Three Guys

As a mom, I knew two boys would be a challenge. As a clueless wife, I had no idea that my husband would occasionally regress into a boy as well, turning the challenge of two boys into a war of immaturity, potty-humor, and Nerf guns.

I am outnumbered.

I am an easy target.

I have an on-going, epic toilet seat battle.

I’ve learned that boys (and husbands) eat like hobbits. No three meals a day for these clowns. Oh, no, we have second breakfast, elevensies, and so on.

As much as I want to tear my hair out at least 2,387 times a day, they’re still my guys, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

 

 

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