I jumped to the window (my bedroom window faces the backyard) and I see my four-year-old, Sam, holding Josh down and pouring water on his head.
Laughing. Hard. While Josh cried his poor little blond head off.
Josh hates water. I mean, HATES. It doesn't matter how hot it is outside, he HATES getting wet. And Sam knows this. And even though my defenses for Josh kicked in as I ran to the backyard to save him, a sliver of me was proud that, for once, it was Sam torturing Josh. Usually it's the other way around.
As I ran out, about to open my ever-yelling mouth, my husband stopped me. He likes to think outside the box, try different parenting techniques. So I let him take over. And what did he do?
He took the big bucket (BIG) that was filled to the brim with water and chased Sam around the backyard, Sam screaming and laughing the whole way. When Dave dumped it on him, Sam stood there in shock. And Dave said, "How do you like it?"
Meantime, I was sitting at the sliding glass door, laughing. And Sam laughed eventually, too. And he didn't pour water on Josh's head again.
|This is Sam sitting in the bucket of water after refilling it. We heard him crying because he couldn't get out. So instead of getting him out, we grabbed the camera.|
|After everyone was dry and clothed, we had some snuggle time on Mama's bed and took some silly pictures. Most of which I won't put on here due to hideous shots of me.|
|My snuggle bug.|
|Afterward, Josh decided to give himself an arm tattoo. And was mad when I wanted to take a picture.|