Since I am sort of on a confession role, I have another one. There is almost always once a day, often times more, a moment where I cannot account for all of the babies. I don't see them all, and I don't hear them all. It's when I don't hear them that I get a little panicky. Those midgets can get into so much trouble.
Today I couldn't find Moyz. Kembia was napping, and Truitt was playing by the front door and the closet door. I ran around into all of the upstairs rooms and nothing. The door to the basement was closed so I know he didn't go down there and both of our outside doors were deadbolted so he hadn't snuck outside, something he loves to do with an alarmingly increasing pace.
And then I heard this noise coming from the front closet. The one where Truitt had been playing. Sure enough, I opened it up and lo and behold there was Moyz. He must have gone inside and then his little brother decided to just finish the job and close it after him.
Hmm. I wonder how Truitt really feels about him? I'm thinking it may be recompense for when Moyz head-butted him while we were waiting in the teeny tiny waiting room of Tires Plus to get our tires rotated.
And just for fun, here's a picture of the little stinker after he ate an oreo. I think it was a hit.