Today is my birthday. When I came down the stairs this morning, Zach was excited to give me my card and gift. (Ezra had gotten tired of waiting for me and was upstairs putting ridiculous amounts of wax in his hair because it was sticking up too much for his taste.)
Zach thrust his card at me. This is the first year he hasn’t given me my card a day or two early, which I took to be a good sign until I realized that it more likely meant that Jeff didn’t have the boys make cards until this morning. Zach had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from telling me what my present was and kept asking me to open it even though Ezra was not yet back.
Ezra came downstairs, with waxy hair that was still sticking up all over the place, grabbed my present and announced, “I’m going to take it out for you. It’s perfume.”
This didn’t ruin the surprise for me, though. Both boys had accomplished that over the weekend. When they came home from the Science museum on Saturday, Zach said, “Don’t you want to know why we’re late?” Then he started laughing.
Ezra told me a bit later, “We couldn’t find your perfume anywhere. Not at Macys or anywhere. But Daddy’s still gonna get it.”
They are the worst secret keepers ever. I used to think that they loved me so much that they couldn’t wait to shower me with gifts. Now I know it’s just that they have no impulse control.
To work on this, I’ve been giving them math problems to do in their head. When they get the answer, they have to write their answers on a sheet of paper, raise their hands, and not shout it out until their brother has finished as well. It’s nearly impossible, but they now manage to pull it off on one out of every five or so problems. Baby steps, I keep telling myself.
I’m hopeful that by next year they’ll be able to keep all kinds of secrets from me.