A summary of our drive home tonight:

Simon: Mommy, let’s do knock knock.
Me: Okay.
[Long pause.]
Simon: You say, “Knock knock.”
Me: [Racking my brain for any knock knock joke I can remember.] Okay, Knock knock!
Simon: No, wait. I’ll say, “Knock knock.”
Me: Okay.
Simon: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Wait. You say, “Knock knock.”
[Repeat indecision and confusion about who should start the joke for a full ten minutes.]

Me: Knock knock.
Simon: Who’s there?
Me: Owls.
Simon: Owls who?
Me: Right. Owls hoo!
Simon: I was supposed to say that.
[Repeat various parts of this and the one other knock knock joke I know (banana, banana, banana, orange you glad I didn’t say ‘banana’) for several more minutes, sometimes with Simon starting, sometimes with me starting but no one ever managing a full and correct joke start to finish.]

Simon: Knock knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Banana!
Me: Banana who?
Simon: Poonie!
Me: What?
Simon: Banana Poonie!
Me: Um. Okay.
Simon: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Tractor Poonie!
[Repeat “Poonie” punchline with anything that catches his eye for the next several minutes.]

[I tell the owls joke again and try to explain why it’s funny.]
Ian: Knock knock! Who dare?
Me: Who’s there, Ian?
Ian: Knock knock! Who dare?
Me: Okay, Ian. Knock knock.
Ian: Who dare?
Me: Owls.
Ian: Yeah! [Laughs hysterically.] Knock knock! Who dare? Poonie.
[Repeat all exchanges in random order until both boys fall asleep.]

It should be obvious that pictures on the blog don’t tell the whole story. So many times I just don’t mention how it all became House of Pain right after I snapped the picture of our adorable kids laughing or concentrating on a baking project that I was such a cool mommy to let them help with. I like it when people admit that life isn’t always clean and happy. And I’m pretty sure everyone knows that all families have their shares of tantrums, messes, parenting fails, unfinished projects, and so on and so forth. But sometimes, some beautiful times, the whole story is actually better—much bigger, much more joy-filled—than photographs could ever capture. “An overwhelming grace” is how our friend Andrew recently described a day with his daughter, Adeline. I love that. This morning was one of those times.

I got up early enough to make a simplified version of Giada’s Baked French Toast, and the boys actually ate something I made (a rarity these days). We had a proper sit-down for breakfast, and the boys—in their matching jammies—talked animatedly with Jason while I enjoyed my second cup of coffee.

Then Clara woke up and the boys entertained her while my heart exploded with love for my great big pile of kids.

A series of portraits of the kids.

A series of portraits of the kids.

A series of portraits of the kids.