The Crime Scene of Teenage Boys

Left-Hand

 

I went around today cleaning fingerprints off the walls:

By the pantry wall – because one cannot just walk in; one must SWING one’s body in with ones hand clasped on the outside of the wall while fussing “I AM STARVING”.

On the refrigerator door (both of them at different times) because when staring into one side you must lovingly caress the other door with your greasy fingers still wet from the LAST time you were in the door.

On the light switches – but only the “on” side because the “off” side is never touched.

On the lower hanging wall between the kitchen and the hallway. It’s the one I need a step stool for but they can FINALLY reach for the first time so they must go through the door each time slapping that particular piece of plaster and wood. They eventually tire of that  ritual but about then another brother is tall enough to reach it.

I’ll leave the ones on the ceiling-would have to get the ladder for those and I kind of like seeing them. Only three fingers, but such a great personal accomplishment for kids who used to have to stand on their tippy toes to reach the sink. Glad the thrill comes so easily in a house full of teenagers.

Oh…and the windows; higher and higher on the windows each year. But it is nice that they still come running to look out when my truck pulls up. I think I’ll leave those too. They make me feel loved. Even if it is for my take out bag full of Chick-fil-a.

Probably should have saved this for my Christmas letter but then this moment would have passed without me capturing it. It’s the most wonderful time don’t you think?

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