Five Minutes at Our House

In case anyone had the slightest doubt regarding our (in)sanity, here's a short episode from one evening this past week.

Mark and I go to the back porch.

Simon comes onto the porch and starts to chase Mark.

Mark responds by picking up a stick and using it as a saber, shouting, "On guard, you foul fiend!"

The boys duel like a pair of French musketeers.
Simon has the worst of it and perishes melodramatically ("Ah, I am slain!"), but handily resurrects himself ten seconds later.

Seeking revenge, Simon picks Mark up by the ankles and dangles his head two inches above the ground.

Mark shrieks.

Simon proceeds to carry Mark (still inverted) out into the yard, hollering, "Birds, here are cookies!"

Marks continues to shriek.

Matthew flies out the back door to join Simon, slips on the way down the hill, and sits down rather abruptly.

Simon almost drops Mark because he's laughing so hard.

An Amish buggy rumbles by, and the befuddled driver slows down to stare at these maniacal children.

All three brothers wave wildly and do a sort of mangled chicken dance.

I am vastly amused.
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