Feral

True story.

I had been talking (okay, whining) to some mom friends from school about my wild children.  Yes, yes, I like to blame Dwayne’s genetic contribution, but I am the primary caretaker, so I’m not without blood on my hands.  Usually Wesley’s blood. 

Anyway, I was describing how all three of the kids are just tree-climbing adventurers.  “That’s great!  They are so athletic!” the other moms chimed in.  No, no, I disagreed. I mean that they tree-climb on the bookshelves, the TV, the refrigerator….

[Susanne came up with the perfect word to describe my children in beast-mode: Feral.  I love it.]

I brought Piper and Wesley home after this play date, and they beat me inside while I gathered up all my stuff.  As I came upstairs, I swear to you, Piper was shimmying up this pole:

She saw me, jumped off, rubbed her hands together and calmly asked if she could fix herself a snack. I think I actually sputtered.  But she did fix her own snack, so it’s not all bad.

 

And here is Piper using sticker-tape to make herself into a vampire.  Don’t suck Wesley’s blood—he probably doesn’t have enough to spare.  Try Kyla—just clean her off first.  She was playing outside down by the stream and she’s wet and filthy.