I guess I could write about the soundtrack to life with my toddler and little boy. But this morning I only have about 13 minutes and they are counting down quickly so I'll save a nice descriptive post on that for a day when I have both ample time and ability to be stationary without falling asleep.
But really, let's think about it.
In the spring, shouts (screams) of joy are released when they see the sun, sun, sun! and are outside for longer than half an hour (or ten minutes which has been Ryan's limit this winter ... just long enough to warrant some hot choc-o-wate).
In the summer, shouts (screams) of rambunctiousness escape every single day we gloriously go out and run, run, run! and actually see the AIRPLANES flying in the sky instead of merely hearing their sound and looking up only to see the dense permacloud of winter. Also, screams of ice cream, of course.
In the fall, shouts (screams) of blind encouragement shoot out as they cheer during a game where they merely know people tackle and score and our team has won! won! won! (or at least we hope ... ) Also, screams abound as leaves and boys jump up and down.
In the winter, shouts (screams) of competitiveness battle back and forth as they take turns screaming at each other for the fun, fun, fun! of it and I sit puzzled that this game actually sounds quieter to me than the constant questions from which I'm getting a brief reprieve. Winter in our house could be described as a quest for consistency in discipline, but then realizing that my little boy has been too quiet, tip-toeing to find him eating and smearing donuts everywhere and quietly tip-toeing back out of sight because, oh well, it's nice and quiet, isn't it?
And there, they scream.