I'm sitting here, on my bouncy ball desk chair, listening to "Hunger Strike" and trying to write down some deep thoughts. The bedroom door is locked and the music cranked up so I can't here the little monsters and their Daddy. A little fist knocks on the door and calls out "Delivery!"
Opening the door, with a rather lot of exasperation, I find my children with several of my things in their hands. Gav, the 9 year old, grins sheepishly, but his little brother, ever brazen, flashes his best "I'm so sweet" smile, complete with dimples and fluttering eyelashes; then, he presents me with an assortment of things that he's filched from my room over the last few days and announces that he found them. Then he hugs me, smiles some more and tells his brother to hug me too. In spite of myself, I fall for it every time, which has only encouraged him to keep banging on the door.
Even as my blood pressure is rising from the noise on the fist on the door, I'm laughing. There is something to be said for little people who know their own charm and who blatantly use it to cheer others up. My kids drive me crazy, but sometimes, even I have to laugh at their ability to slip past my armor and get their own way. So, the lesson here seems to be that everybody has a talent for something, even if it is annoying and self serving.
As an illustration of Aiden's superpower cuteness, here is a favorite picture of him. The "handsome Little Devil" shirt and the horns suit him perfectly.