My kids constantly astound me. When I say astound, what I mean is terrify. I don't understand why they do the things they do. They are full of ridiculous and unpredictable behavior. What would cause them to want to climb up a tall building and get stuck up there? What makes them shake their bellies at wedding guests? Why do they put containers full of bugs in the refrigerator?
These are the questions that plague me.
Then I remembered that Drake explained this erratic behavior to me when he was three years old.
"Mom! Dad!" Josiah yelled as he ran into the kitchen pointing to a red splotch on his arm. "Look what Drake did!"
"How did he do that?" Mike asked rubbing the red spot. I don't know why, but parents tend to rub whatever owie they are shown. It is like we have all, universally, decided that the fastest way to eliminate pain is to rub the effected area. It never works, and it sometimes makes the problem worse. Yet we persist in our rubbing.
"He pinched me!"
"Drake," Mike turned and looked into Drake's soul with his I am your father and you are in trouble eyes, "why did you pinch your brother?"
"Because I am crazy," he explained.
That about sums it up.
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