Wyatt and Tate Are Over The Moon

The mailman and the UPS guy both brought packages for them - their CAP notebooks and uniform 'accessories', respectively. 

So guess what I got to do all afternoon? 

Sew patches on their uniforms.  

Awesome.

And oh-my-word.  Let me tell you something about how stiff and thick the combination of uniforms and patches actually is.  It's ridiculous.  I lost count of how many pins I bent and had to throw away, and I actually had to use a thimble, which - up to this point - has been completely outside my meager sewing repertoire, and I probably wasn't doing it right anyway.

Also, for most of the time I was slaving away sewing, there were five boys, ages 10 to 15, at my dining room table playing Risk.  Or sort of playing Risk.  I mean, I've never actually played it, so I'm not sure.  But I'm not convinced they're actually playing by the rules.  They don't seem to want to completely conquer the world, because then the game would end, and they really like the game to go on for days and days. 

As near as I can tell, they want to be winning, but not to actually win.

So there are continuous and endless negotiations about the balance of power, and who will or will not attack whom.  And what is a "trading post" anyway?  Is that part of the game?  Or did they make that up?  I'm thinking the latter.  And there is one boy (who shall remain nameless) who incessantly cackles/sings/whines when it's not his turn.  And he was sitting right next to Tate's good ear.  I'm thinking that played a part in the other boys finally putting him out of the game.  Maybe.  I was ready to get the duct tape myself.

And no, I'm not complaining.  It may sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not.  I'm just telling you my fingers hurt.  And my dining room smells pretty funky.

Boys.