There. I feel better now.
The Drama King reigned for a good fifteen minutes (at least), and I got these pictures of him in all his glory. He kept calling out for "help" from his bedroom, which usually means he's purposely gotten himself stuck in some way. So I grabbed my camera, of course.
He yelled, "No!! Don't take a picture of me! Don't show this to anybody!" I told him I wouldn't, unless he did it again. After helping him out of his toy box, I asked him how in the world he managed to get stuck in there...so he showed me, and got stuck again.
It was at this point that I said, "If you keep this up, I'm putting it on the blog." He had been a little upset that I was taking pictures of his dire predicament (mad faces alternating with giggles)...but then, I guess, the "starved-for-attention" middle child decided that attention was good, especially if it bought him a little notoriety on the blog.
I went back to what I had been doing, only to be pulled back to my closet by Grace who told me he was stuck again and needed "hep."
Really, if I knew you were going to be seeing my closet, I would have picked up a bit. This is where all of the unloved (read: un-picked up) toys go to sleep until they are loved again. As well as unloved (read: unloved) dumbbells.
He demonstrated again, although this time I didn't ask. (Going by his version, he was sucked back in through the clothes.)
See why Jason (repeatedly) tells people that this blog is cathartic? It saves my sanity.
That, and chocolate.