Because they fight like cats and dogs

Hayden has a loose tooth.

Yep, another loose tooth.

This makes six...I think six, anyway. I feel like he's lost at least one per month since he started losing them.

Sebastian finally outgrew some pants that fit just fine at the beginning of the Fall...you know, the time when we DON'T need pants in Mississippi. It's till ridonkulously hot here at that time and the thought of even putting on pants sends me into a sweatty mess, much less thinking about buying them. So I usually don't. And inevitably, we're left with the need for pants, only we have no time during the week, so he goes to daycare with pants a bit too short and I make a pact with myself every time I see him that I need to remedy my procrastination in that department ASAP, because the day is quickly approaching that he'll be teased mercilessly when it comes to everything about him.

And that makes me sad.

We've started something new around the house and it falls into the category of "my husband is a genius" because it works like a charm.

You see, the boys fight like you wouldn't believe. Nothing physical really, but more hateful talk and one person trying their hardest to exert their boss status over the other and the other hates it so they rebuke and even though they may actually be speaking words like "Please brother. Stop talking to me in that manner", my brain computes it as a noise similar to nails down a chalkboard or a car alarm in the distance that will. not. quit. And so I find myself going from patient to incredibly annoyed in a matter of seconds. Spare me the advice that one day it will get better, or just get ready when it does turn physical...I know they're brothers and by design, they will fight like cats and dogs. But believe me, if we can find something to stop the madness, then we will do it!

Yelling does not work. For a moment, yes, because I'm sure they think I'm about to flip my lid. Threats, do not work. Because inevitably, they just return to the nails down a chalkboard banter back and forth and honestly, my cerebellum cannot take it.

So enter the ingenious husband who learned a neat little trick while in the Marine Corps.

If you fight with your brother, you will be forced to hold hands for an extended amount of time. If you continue to fight, you will be forced to sit holding hands while you sit forehead to forehead. Gripe at any point in the process of serving your affectionate time, and we'll just add more time. Eventually, what happens, is nothing short of magical. Because eventually, they start giggling and miraculously, all is forgiven.

And my brain can process real words and thoughts once again!

If only I could remember to do this regularly. We tried it once before last year with the "he ain't heavy. he's my brother", but then I forgot to do it again.

**Sorry for the lack of blogging lately. This baby has totally stolen my brain. I hope to keep up more. I promise.