The Call of The Ice Cream Truck

Q has been so so very sweet and rule-following and helpful and mature and grown up that I nearly forgot about his youthful antics...until the other day.

You see, the boys love, LOVE the ice cream truck.  They can hear it's siren call ten miles away.  It's uncanny, especially because they can't seem to hear me calling from the next room...

There we were one afternoon.  It was a typical afternoon fraught with chaos.  I was helping a couple of kids with homework, trying to get others to practice piano and do their chores, make dinner and hold a crying baby.  It was hectic, loud, and crazy as per usual.  Q offered to pet the dog and play with him outside.  I was thrilled because the dog has been neglected a bit lately.  I sent him outside, thinking to myself all sorts of virtuous thoughts about the helpful boy.  In fact I couldn't believe he was so determined in his chore.  He stayed outside for a good 45 minutes.  Finally I looked for him out the window and couldn't see him, so I figured he was on the side of the house.  I called to him here and there in between the twelve things I was doing at once.  He eventually came inside, saying he didn't hear me call for awhile.  Then Dennis proceeds to ask him why he has a blue mouth.  At this point I am half listening because I'm trying to figure out how to put the now angry babe into a wrap so I can hold him and continue working at the same time.  I am sweaty, flustered and still trying to make dinner and "encourage" kids to do piano, homework and chores.  The conversation between the boys continues for quite awhile until I finally give it my full attention and realize Q's face is blue because he had an ice cream.  It takes my frazzled brain a few seconds to catch up and put the pieces together and start asking questions...like "Wait, a minute...WHERE did you get the ice cream???"  Q tells me he heard the ice cream truck, ran to get his wallet, sneakily went back outside and scaled the six foot block wall using a pallet as a ladder.  He then found the truck, bought his treat and came back.  Incredulous (sort of), I asked how he got back in.  He said he used the stacked bricks against the wall and then the water spout to climb on.  Then he walked across the top of the wall back to where the pallet-ladder was and climbed back in to enjoy his spoils.  Sheeeeeeeeeeeeesh!  I was pretty speechless.

He still is a sweetheart even if he is an escape artist.  Since having the baby, he has taken extra care of me.  He prays every night that his new brother will sleep well so that I can sleep.  He prays that the baby will get lots of exercise in the day so he will be tired at night.  He has climbed into my bed ahead of me to make sure and find the most comfy spot for me.  He has left me love notes on my bed, on my desk and all over the house.  He makes his lunch for the next day every night on his own.  So I can't really get too mad at him.  Although we have now had VERY serious conversations about running off without an adult to catch the ice cream truck...and climbing block walls.