yepp, that's what we would need: a kindergarten cop. or something along those lines. some authority respected and thus obeyed by collin and vicky, who would manage to get them out of there at the end of the day, home with mama. because mama alone is pretty much lost when it comes to that. while everybody seems oh so worried about these youngsters coping with the new surroundings, mama leaving, them not crying, not missing mama (and a little bit also me?) too much and not cry more and again, our two youngest have made merry with the kindergarten so much that trying to get them out of there and away from their new toys and friends at night turns into a drama, nearly.
well, great! now what kind of image does that portray of their home, hmm? :) *sigh* i think, THIS is what people meant when they said "problems" and "difficulties", hmm? :)

meanwhile, benG doesn't want to fall too far behind when it comes to wrapping us around his finger: late and deep at night, beyond sandman's own REM phase, he decides that this dinner's bottle was nice, sure, but nowhere near sufficient in terms of amount. so, there is the call for the waitress, which at his age reminds anyone within this tremendous hearing distance of a jet airliner taking off. as could be expected, mama gets soft and carries the semi-starved poor kid downstairs to the living room. where _AS_ expectedly the bottle takes a faaaaaaar back seat to the motion picture currently up on the big screen. well, "dead poets' society" is so much more interesting after all, even daddy's head, which is in the line of sight while feeding, gets pushed out of the way. as difficult as it is for our oldest with the motoric skills and all that, it is always enough for things like this... well, _THIS_ habit we have to drop again, pronto! next time any late night feeding will take place in bed, or at least in the kids' room. rascals, the lot of them! having a firm grip on us! rosy outlook on puberty... :)