Define "Quiet"

This is Nicholas playing with pumpkin guts. Yeah, it's gross, but it 's different and it keeps him busy!When I was in kindergarten I remember my father picking me up from school and taking me to work, where he had to record one quick thing before we could go home. I was told to sit in this chair and be quiet. And I was. Or so I thought. See, to me, quiet meant not talking. I didn't hear the banging of my legs on the chair legs as I swung them, or the clanking of my metal lunch box as I moved it around. These sounds, as far as I was concerned, did not exist.

In the morning, I tell the boys they need to stay in bed until the alarm goes off. The alarm is currently set for 6:30. This is because it used to be set for 6am, but I found I was actually waking them up with it, so I kept pushing it back. Unfortunately, these days they are now getting up around 5:30, which leaves an hour, a whole, pitch-black, middle-of-the-night-like hour of their being awake before I am ready.

I know I can't keep them asleep. I used to wake up early myself, and I remember wondering why, just WHY people were so intent of staying ASLEEP when they could be AWAKE and doing anything else, such as watching TV, or reading, or eating breakfast. So I told the boys they could read a book or play quietly. I also told Nick, who is just starting to sleep without a pull-up, that he could use the bathroom as long as he came right back to bed.

So now, at 5:45am, Nick runs down the hall to the bathroom wearing what sounds like combat boots on his feet, and taking along a heard of elephants. He pees, the sound effects of which can be clearly heard from our bedroom and all the open doors. He then forgets to flush and runs back to bed, taking the elephants with him. Nathan, on the other hand, rushes along to observe his brother. He then compensates for Nick's lack of flushing by flushing the toilet 17 times, and then splashes in the toilet bowl until I get up and make him return to his room.

Nicholas and Nathan are told to play quietly, which to them translates as "No toys that make music." This morning they turned over every single bin that held toys, including blocks, little people, and small books. There was banging, rattling of doors and bed rails, crying, and loud exclamations of "Brudda! Brudda!" When both boys started crying at 6:15 I stumbled in and forced them to turn off the lights again as I whimpered from under the covers of Nick's bed.