"He's had a nice day"

I hear this quite often when picking up Master 3 from daycare. Or some variation thereof.

"He's had a good day."

"He had a great day today."

"He had a lovely day."

But it isn't the teachers that tell me this. It is Master 3's little friend. This little friend also comes over and holds my hand to tell me, and greets Master 3 in the morning with a squeal of delight and a great big hug.

And together, he and my little man, with 2 other of the little 3 year old boys, are absolute terrors.

Terrors.

But gorgeous at the same time.

I can envisage their classroom teachers in years to come, and can expect to be able to visibly chart the advancement of their greying hairs.

They're gorgeous little boys. Just trouble. With a capital. T.

That said, one of the best sounds of the day is made by said troublemaker of mine. And it happens around 6.30pm each night when I get the kids out of the bath.

It goes something like this.

"Arms up little man."

*giggle*

"Come on, arms up, I need to dry under your arms."

"Noo! You'll tickle me!"

"I need to dry under your arms."

*more giggles*

"Come on, up with the arms."

And up they go, and I dry under his arms, and give them a little tickle, and he just loses it. The most adorable, free, happy and wonderful laughter you have ever heard. I adore it.

Makes me want to bath him three or four times a day.

But no. Oh. No. That would be bad. I bath the kids together. I won't be able to for much longer but for now I do. It is just far easier and quicker. So I do.

But the water aggression is rising. Splashes go higher, and bubbles fly further.

And here I am wishing more of this. Um. No. *slaps self upside the head and begs self to comes to self's senses*

We have recently begun doing a lot more "towel cape" activity after baths. Although tonight ended rather abruptly with a 3 year old's head colliding with a 5 year old's cheek. The 3 year old was quite convinced he could actually fly with the addition of said towel cape. The mark on Miss 5's cheek is testament to the fact that in this instance he was perhaps a tad mistaken.

We were watching the cloud babies the other day. I say we when in fact I mean the kids. I was sitting on the sofa accosting them individually on a fairly regular basis so as to get my daily quota of cuddles. So the cloud babies came on, I was hugging Miss 4 and Master 3 was lying on the arm of the sofa, watching, as he does.

So I asked the question "Which is your favourite?"

The answer surprised me. I didn't know the names of the Cloud Babies. I did know they had different colours. But that was as far as it went.

I certainly didn't expect to hear him, as he jumped off the sofa with enormous energy, scream "JIMMY BARTEL!"

His footy jumper (Cats) has the number 3 on it. There you go.

I have spoken before of the windows. Play School. When the windows come on, screams of "WINDOW TIME!!!!" resonate throughout the house.

Today was no different. And I do love Play School. So much more than so much of the other rubbish on the television that forces me to just turn it off (which in fact is not a bad thing because the kids probably watch too much tv these days anyway so bring on the bad shows).

So the windows came on. I, as per usual, chose arch. Other decisions were made, resulting in one dodgy 'winner' and one very dodgy pseudo winner who thought she said that window but we all know she didn't but couldn't be bothered arguing.

And through the windows was a persian cat. I'm not a cat person but as far as cats go, this one was quite pretty.

Master 3 thought so too. "Awwwwww" he said. "We should get one for Jake."

Our dog.

"Oh yes, he would LOVE that."

You just have to love the innocence of children…...