Thirty Minute Pillow Fight

Ever had one for that long? With two boys, under the age of six? Who seemed to be pumped up on soda and sugar? And the knowledge they can overpower their helpless, caffeine deficient aunt?

*notice the Impact jujitsu shirt. some moves learned during class were incorporated into the pillow fight.*

And performing the role as referee, this princess graciously put down her milk bottle (when she knew I was not looking), and intervened. By pulling out all the Wii games of their cases. And the DVD's. And the advertisement inserts. The boys ran to protect their precious technological paraphernalia. The pillows (and my arms) got a break.

* Thank you. I owe you all the cheese crackers in the world.*

The only member in the audience was too worried where his master was to care who won the pillow fight. His long legs could have helped me throw the pillow. I could have ridden him away to safety. His bark would have provided me with a much needed battle cry. But nope. He sat. And watched. And worried.

"Psst. Angus. ANGUS" *poke poke* No response except a furrowed brow and a small whimper for A.R.

Number Twenty

My incredible older sister, E., gave birth to her fourth child this past week. FOUR. As in she has three other ones at home. Under the age of seven. Who have boundless energy - even at six a.m. Who can jump on the trampoline in fifty degree weather, with the threat of rain, for hours on end. Who can rewatch the same Taylor Swift video on YouTube over and over and over again.

And who I babysat for two days while E. brought another one into the world. And I absolutely cannot wait to watch her grow up. I love this new baby. I love her siblings. And I love my sister.

*Avery N. and me. Please focus on the former subject.*