Just when you think bedtime's safe again...

...it's not.
Not at all, in fact.

We have, in the Richards house, a fairly firm and steadfast bedtime routine...bath, quick show on Sprout (boys love The Goodnight Show--and Brian doesn't hate the female host), glass of milk, story, quick song, prayers...and lights out. Whole routine takes about 30 minutes.
And it has, for the most part, been fool-proof.
Meaning...the boys go to sleep.

But somewhere around the time that Jonny learned to crawl out of his crib (days after he was born?)...the interpretation of bedtime has been a bit loose on his part. Up for debate.
Days when he's worn out and hasn't had a nap...goodnight.
But days when he's had the least bit of a nap...well...the whole "goodnight routine" is a mere opening act for his show.
I cuddle and sing to him, kiss him good night...revel in the sweetness of our goodnight moments and his soft skin, tuck him in with his favorite blankies, exchange I love yous, you get it...but for him, it's just the drop-off before a total party.

Antics have ranged from emptying out the contents of his drawers, baskets of lotions, etc....to sitting in our bedroom closet "reading books"...to full-on hanging out on our living room sofas, unbeknownst to us, only to eventually pop his head up and announce his presence to us--in the adjacent room, watching TV.

So when I got home from Meijer tonight, put the groceries away, got the down-low from Brian about how the boys went down, what cuteness occurred...and how long Jonny's usual game of whack-a-mole went on...you know the one, the state fair favorite, where the little mole heads pop up annoyingly (but happily) and no matter how many times you send them back into their holes with a mallet--they just pop the F right back up again.
That's Jonny...minus the mallet.
Anyway...so when I'm on my second bite of Meijer sushi, we hear a *clunk* from up in the bathroom. Non-plussed, we both shrug our shoulders and Brian heads up to put J back in bed.

Except...this time he's taken it to a whole new level.
This time he's gotten into my makeup...and is wearing it. Like...really wearing it. Smears of brown goo* are covering his face, neck, back of neck and of course, his hands. Brian appears in the doorway to the kitchen with him, and immediately--I'm a deer in headlights. I am just utterly stunned. On the one hand, TOTALLY freaked out at the appearance of this child...and on the other hand, wanting not to give away with my expression just how hilarious I think the situation is.
Oh, and I'm also reaching for the camera.

The pictures tell it all...you see the disaster all over his face...but you also see separate expressions: one of fear for the punishment to come, one of relief that his daddy and I are clearly not totally pissed--stifling giggles, if I'm being honest...and also, one of true Jonathan pride in the most recent of his stunts.

Only real thing I'm worried about at this point, as he's been cleaned up, changed into new pjs and plunked back in bed, is the sheer cost of replacing the makeup and brushes (those puppies aren't cheap) he ruined.

But for now, back to my sushi.
Oh yes, and that glass of wine.

And so it goes in this house of ours...*sigh*.

*origin of said "goo" on his face has yet to be determined by me...I don't own anything resembling foundation, only brown eyeliner, some concealer (that wasn't touched), loose mineral powder, and some random eye shadows...oh, and a lipstick that--yes--was completely and totally smooshed. But it was more of a pinkish auburn color...so basically, I'm stumped.
But, alas, I'm used to it by now.:)

"You Can Help Yourself..."

Can't say this isn't the motto in our house...but wow, pretty funny when it comes from your 4 yr old.

Benjamin and Wyatt are currently playing restaurant--well, Benjamin's working at a McDonald's (with the McD cash register in his lap) and Wyatt's working at the local grocery store (Jonathan's new grocery register in his lap).
Both boys are sitting next to eachother on the couch, which makes me wonder who's going to actually get the food prepared...or bought. But I play along anyway...

Walking up, on my knees, to Benjamin I say: "I'd like 3 cheeseburgers, two chicken nuggets, 4 fries and 3 drinks." I'm pretty hungry, after all.
Plugging the info into his register, he repeats my order like a pro...wonder if he's heard this done before somewhere.

"Anything else!?" he asks.
"Nope, that'll be it, sir!" I say.
Transaction of money and niceties follows...including a friendly "Have a nice day" from Benjamin.

I sit, expectantly, waiting.

"Mommy, that's it...next person is waiting!"

"But what about my food, Bud? Where's my food??" I say.

Wyatt looks at Benjamin, then me, then back at Benjamin...

Benjamin shoots his arm up, waves his hand in a circular motion, gesturing toward the play kitchen area.
"You can just help yourself...kitchen's open!"

Can't say I don't love the hospitality of said kitchen...but I think we need to sharpen our "playing restaurant" skills.
Clare and Addie would be good right about now...they are PROS.