The pitter-patter of tiny feet (not)

Somehow I thought that the boys would turn out to be nerds.  Book-loving, geological fact-finding, bird-watching, eager-to-sit-down-and-lap-up-my-every-word nerds.  

Well, things never really turn out exactly as you think they might.  
Why this is so, I don't know.  
I've stopped looking for a reason behind the odd and extraordinary.

Instead, our boys turned out to be feisty confrontation-seeking devices with loud voices and the inability to tread softly on wooden floors in a small house.  

Quite the mismatch with Mummy and Daddy's energy levels.  

Not quite the sleep-until-we're-woken, speak-until-we're-spoken-to-kind of kiddies.


I know one day we'll look back at this energy-sucking-experience as a time of passion and great joy. 

I know this for sure. 

I just don't feel it yet.