Last weekend at my sister's house our little family of six shared a bedroom. Which for the kids isn't much different than their normal sleeping arrangement here at my parents' house. Except Joe, Levi and I were in the room with them. Oh and instead of beds they were sleeping on camping mats and mattresses on the floor.
One night an hour after we had put the big kids to bed I asked Joe to go check on them. To see if any of them had fallen asleep. (Wishful thinking!) Levi and I were too busy snuggling to actually make the trek downstairs. Joe the ever dutiful husband trudged downstairs and back again to report that they were all still awake. (Exactly what he had told me/predicted before going down to look.)
Also unsurprisingly Hannah was not in her bed. Instead she was crouched over a very tired and crying, whimpering Charlotte. When Joe asked her why she was crying she pitifully reported that Hannah was hitting her and "wouldn't stop!" Hannah did not deny the alleged crime. And when asked Isaiah (with his face buried in his Pokemon book) shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know. I'm reading." A mere foot away from the crime scene. And completely oblivious.
While I felt bad for Charlotte - getting beat up (by your little sister!) when you want to be sleeping sounds miserable - I couldn't help but laugh. Like really laugh. Because that small interaction pretty much embodied our children's interactions/relationships these days. A glimpse into their funny little world.
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