The other day, my dear little Owyn discovered the tunnel to his tent that he got as a gift for his first birthday from Grand-Jen. He was having to much fun being in the little tunnel (and might I add, had to be shirt and pantless to be in it (?)) I thought we should break out the entire tent.
And so, I set up the tent and haven't left it since. This is now day 3 and I am currently typing from inside the tent. I am a hostage. If I try to get out Owyn points and yells, "MOMMY, GO NIGHT NIGHT IN THE TENT!".
That is what these kids do to us. We so deeply desire to see excitement in their eyes and smiles on their faces and it makes us do crazy things like get them their own mini "coffees" (fancy over-priced chocolate milk) from the coffee shop. Even though we know they will be bouncing off the walls raising hell after the sugar rush kicks in and we will regret it, we do it to see them happy. Same goes with the tent. I want to take it down. I've had enough, and if I have to watch "Mars Needs Moms" or "WALL-E" one more time I might scream, but I am a sucker for that kids love and happiness.
bringing power into the tent
