A Quiet Game

The other day I was doing sit-ups in the basement when I heard some noise from above.

I always hear noise when I'm working out. If the boys are awake, there will be noise. But most of it is thumping. I'm not sure what it is, or what exactly they are doing, but it sounds as though the boys are climbing up to the highest point they can and then JUMPing off with a thud. They are trying to see who can shake the house more, or maybe who can be loudest. Sometimes I think they are doing some sort of seismic experiment. But then, if I go upstairs, they are just getting some water or sneaking cereal out of the cupboard.

This noise was different, though. It wasn't thumping, which is "normal," but it was scraping, and screaming, and someone shouting "I WAS NOT!" and someone else shouting "I HATE YOU!" and then "SHUT UP!"

I ran upstairs expecting to see blood, or wrestling boys, or some evidence of an explosion or horrible deed.

Instead, I found all three boys seated around the kitchen table.

They were playing CandyLand.

I was excited, at first, that the boys were finally playing board games on their own. (CandyLand? Not now, Sweetie, Mommy's folding laundry. Again.)

But then I realized that my boys could turn even CandyLand into a war zone. Apparently the rules about how to reach the rainbow palace are not as straightforward as you'd think.