So I’m standing in my kitchen holding a black permanent marker in one hand and a burning candle in the other. No, it’s not a pagan ritual. It’s just motherhood.
How did I get to this moment? Well it’s Saturday morning and I like to light a candle on Saturday morning. It just gives a nice warm feeling to the house, we’re all mellow and hanging out, and it smells nicer than the bathroom.
Older Son is like a cat. He hears the box of matches shaking and comes charging in: Can I light it can I light it can I light it???
OK, he can light the match but I’m holding the candle because it’s way down in the glass and he’ll burn himself. He’s just gotten the candle lit when Younger Son comes running through the kitchen, naked, brandishing said black permanent marker.
My right hand, not holding the candle, reaches out instantly and grabs the marker (cat-like reflexes honed over years of handling this type of situation). Younger Son is strong enough for it not to slip out of his grasp, and also by now he’s probably expecting that I will grab it away from him. We wrestle for a minute and when he realizes I’m not letting go, he gives.
Mind you, at the same time I’ve managed not to burn Older Son or myself with the lit match and/or candle. I swear they should just transport me around and put me in emergency situations.
In case you’re wondering, I never did find out why Younger Son was naked.