Joey. The Clown.

Last night, around 10:30 I went upstairs to go to bed. My normal routine is to cover each boy and kiss them good night with James' room being first. When I tucked him in, his hands were COVERED in marker; odd, but I thought little of it and moved on to the next room. Tucked in Jack....then looked at Joseph. I swear to all that is good and holy that a clown attacked him. He had circles on his ...face. ALL. OVER. HIS. EVER-LOVING FACE. In BLACK (headsmack) PERMANENT MARKER. Circles on his cheeks...forhead...NOSE. Big circles, little circles....I then made the connection between James' hands and Joeys attack. I am going to go with this being some passive-aggressive payback on James' part....the explanation of WHY will be extracted shortly in PAPER AND PENCIL FORM and consisting of no less than 500 WORDS.  

All of this may be more horrifying to me because I did EXACTLEY the same thing to my brother.  As a matter of fact, I think I was almost the same age as well.  In his case, the weapon of choice was a ball point pen.  And in his case, my mom laughed about it...me...not so much.  James was promptly awoken and marched into his brothers room.  To do what, I STILL have no idea, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. 

James does seem to be the one who reinacts all of the stereo-typical childhood scenes.  The phone call from his Kindergarten teacher comes to mind, where he not only stuck his tongue to a frozen pole, but coerced half of his class to follow suit.

I suppose I need to look at the bright side....that it could all be so much worse.  He could have written WORDS on his face.  At least with circles, I can fill them in and call it chicken pox!