Come Thou Long Expected Jesus

It is the first Sunday of Advent and the house is quiet. I am home alone, a very rare occurrence in this phase of life. My heart longed for solitude this morning. I am on day 18 of a terrible cold and rest has not yet made it to the top of the agenda. My conscience screamed "You should join them" but I sent them off anyway, my husband and brood of three, to worship in community. Ordinarily, I would be with them. Today I needed to rest. It was as if I heard the voice of Christ whispering "Cease. I will meet with you here." So here I sit, worshiping as an audience of one. 

Frost laces the barren branches of the trees out my window, each tiny shoot encapsulated in cold. I can hear the clock ticking. This is a season of great waiting. Of anticipation. It is Advent: a time where we anticipate the arrival of a notable person, thing or event. We wait in silent expectation, for the coming of our Savior King. Usually Christmas comes and goes before I have a chance to truly ponder this and what it means for me. 

My kids have the most immense appetites for knowledge, and their questions never cease. Yesterday, we unpacked our nativity set, and I began to teach my two year old of the birth of the baby Jesus, acting out the story with the figurines. Though his obsession with the donkey seemed to overshadow everything else, I can sense the main character of the story is apparent to him. In this day and age where Santa and elves and toys and everything else seems to be the primary focus, how can we keep Christ at the center? I long for my kiddos to know the truth and to know it intimately. To hear the awe-inspiring story of the virgin birth, and to know with every ounce of their being that this coming of Jesus was for THEM. For all of us. 

It's hard to imagine that, in a world of millions, our very names were on His mind when He came to earth as our Savior. 2 Corinthians 5:21 says "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him." What an amazing reason to celebrate - that through Christ's coming to earth as a baby and His subsequent death on the cross for us, we could be forgiven and seen as blameless in His eyes. May we all take a moment this season to cease and ponder this amazing gift.

Happy Advent to all!       

Having Decorated

Today we took on the massive task of trimming the tree and putting up Christmas decorations. It pains me to even type that sentence, for fear I sound so completely bah humbug that you all write me off as a total party pooper. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE having decorated for Christmas. The twinkling lights. The red and green. The smell of a fresh cut tree. But the actual process of decorating? It really isn't my thing. 

In so many ways, I have loosened up over the years. Like for instance, take last night when I agreed with 98% willingness to run off to McLendon's Hardware at 6:30 PM and select a tree under the cover of pitch darkness. We could see next to nothing beyond the height of the tree options before us and I honestly didn't really care. I think we took home the third tree we touched. Short, sweet and simple. But still, more often than not, my perfectionist tendencies weave a gnarly web of high expectations and a desire for things to be just so. It makes me a tough cookie to live with, this I know. But you can also ask my husband if you want.

So last night my husband requested that today we have a "nice relaxing breakfast together" with tree decorating to follow. And then after "relaxing" as we trimmed the tree, we would rush off, *cough* I mean head out, dressed and beautiful to meet my brother-in-law at a park for a family photo shoot. As it turns out, I don't really do "nice and relaxing" followed by "dressed and beautiful" within the same 2 hour window. I summarized our morning on social media as follows::

"Ok all you peeps with kids: let's keep this Christmas decorating thing real. Despite any beautiful pictures we might post of a glowing tree or lovely mantle, let's remember that, behind the scenes, decorations were flying out of boxes in all directions, ornaments were shattering, breakfast dishes were still on the table, only 1 of our strands of lights were 100% functional and we ended up taping our star to the top of the tree. And meanwhile, mom was having a panic attack in the corner."

  So yeah. This whole changing out seasonal decorations thing? It's not really my jam. But as I began to ponder it all, I realized so many things are not enjoyable in the process. I don't enjoy decorating but I love having decorated. I don't always enjoy running but I love having run. Heaven knows I don't always enjoy parenting, but I love having parented. Are you catching my drift?

 The process of doing is typically messy and confusing and even painful. It can be tempting to throw our hands up and concede - to say darn it all to the tree this year, or to slow our run to a walk or to surrender to yelling at our kids instead of finding another way. The doing. It's the nit and grit. It's what's hard. But without it, there is no having done. I can tell you all this all day and all night but the person who probably needs to hear it most is yours truly. I almost always celebrate the outcome. But it's the process that about kills me. I long to get to a place where I can also enjoy the undertaking. Or maybe more realistically, even just enjoy parts of it. To be able to press pause amidst the chaos, take a deep breath, see the beauty in the crazy and then continue in forward motion. 

Then once it's all over, we can make the glorious claim to HAVE DONE something! We can step back and smile as we reminisce and think about how truly hysterical it was that our husband scotch-taped the star to the top of the tree. And celebrate that our response to the precious ornament shattering was a simple "It's OK, accidents happen" and not something worse. And we can truly see the delight on our kids' faces as they dance around the tree exclaiming "This is the most fun ever!" And of course we can stand witness to the beauty of a job well done.

 I didn't start off very well today, but I'd like to think I am finishing strong. The process so often makes us question the endevour but, in the end, it is usually worth it. 

Jack 25 Months

Look at that face!!! His zest for life is infectious! He wakes up every day, totally thrilled to see each and every last item he took to bed with him (and there are a lot these days). He greets each of us with an enthusiastic "Hi Emma!" or "Hi Mom!" when he sees us for the first time. It is the absolute greatest.

He remains remarkably attached to his new city bus toy which has affectionately been named "The 255" and I've spied him feeding it meals and even tucking it in for naps. He yells out whenever he sees a bus of ANY kind while driving and pleads with us to "ride it?" He knows the bus route by our house is "the 255" and so we get particularly excited when we see that bus driving around. He's getting in to trash truck too so Tuesday morning is an exciting time around here.

He seems to have a special affinity for riding things as this is the most common request he makes of us. Whether it be a horse, deer, bus, Canadian goose or the Honda, his question is the same: "ride it?"

He's learned a few other new phrases like "I'm sorry," "Help?" (when he wants to help you) "All better," and, my personal favorite: "Emma did it." He learned that last one from the accused herself. Right back atcha sister! I nearly died laughing the first time I heard him trying to shift blame. (One's parenting becomes especially stellar by the time you get to the third kid).

This kid keeps me on my toes, particularly in the kitchen. The microwave is by far his favorite appliance but he's also grown quite adept at opening both the fridge and freezer and warming things up for me. The other day I left briefly to use the restroom and returned to find the milk, half and half, buttermilk, neatly lined up in a nice row on the table. Thanks Jack! I also turned around last night to find he and Emma jousting with my metal skewers while I was trying to cook dinner. And there is a slight chance I may have captured a video of Jack struggling desperately to pull a chair up to the counter (which I shall refrain from posting for fear someone on the internet would call CPS on me). Sounds tame enough but the struggle was real y'all - he could only use one hand to tug that chair because, in the other, he was tightly clutching a glass bottle of cooking marsala. The scene was more than comical as he stumbled about so I did what every good mother does and grabbed my phone and started videoing.

The other night I was on triple kid bath duty. I got a crazy hair-brained idea and decided to speak only in a creepy French accent to keep the mood light as I dumped buckets of water over their little heads. Jack of course thought it was hysterical to hear mommy talk so funny and proceeded to press his little lips into a kissy fish face and say "Mom-mee" in the most adorable little French way. He hasn't stopped doing it since and we both laugh every time.

Jack is obsessed with the color blue. He always wants a blue plate, bowl, utensils etc at meals and now he also insists on his blue pajamas too (which he calls his "boo bamas"). If they are in the hamper, he will settle for his stripes ("bipes") but only his "boo bipes." He puts up a real stink about getting dressed so sometimes I just let him live life in his pjs. I mean, why not?

I am so thankful I enrolled Emma in afternoon preschool because he and Emma have really been enjoying their mornings together. They play and play and rarely fight and it makes my heart happy to see them loving on each other. Jack is always such a willing participant and yesterday I found them hunkered down in the ottoman together. This second picture is solely for your comic relief:

That picture was a perfect lead in to his sleep habits. Unfortunately his naps have been shortening significantly and though I do really miss his 3-hour sleep marathons, I still do get at least an hour a day. 

He's learned from the greatest (his sisters!) about how to prolong bedtime. He now typically asks for water, and then a song (usually Happy Birthday). You'll sing it once to Gideon and then he'll want you to sing to Lilly and then Lani and Josh and Ben and Grandma and Grandpa and Olona and each of her two dogs... Then he'll want the rain sound on his sound machine. And then change his mind to the froggy sound. And then back to the rain. This could go on for hours and so his wise parents eventually just walk out of the room and shut the door because his requests are never satiated. 

Oh! And lest I forget his sleep "accessories." Since taking away his binky, his crib has grown a bit crowded as we've essentially let him take whatever he wants with him to sleep. The following video is a good example:

Since this time, however, he has added a 3rd blanket, a baby doll and a book to his list of "usuals."

Jack is always, always, always singing. And passionately! Out of no where, he will walk through the kitchen absolutely belting Happy Birthday to Gideon (his cousin) or some similar song. He wakes up singing. He goes to bed singing. He sings in the car. It's awesome. I decided to start teaching him some Christmas songs so he'll be all ready for next month. I began with Away in a Manger but he refuses to sing the last line correctly. Instead of  "the little Lord Jesus asleep on the HAY," he replaces "hay" with "BED" (it only makes sense!) as loud as he can. It's so comical and someday I will catch it on video but for now I'll close with his super serious rendition of Happy Birthday. 

Ha!

The Fog of Joy

The pastor stands in front of his congregation, challenging his married audience with the following question: "Do you profoundly enjoy each other? Or are you simply enduring?" For some, the tension in the air is palpable, couples sitting rigidly, together in proximity but miles apart. Others press their bodies closer to one another, hands already connected, shoulders now too.

For the first group, I imagine they regret coming to church this morning, the reality of their struggles ripped open and splayed about before them, exposed and gaping. It's convicting and the road ahead for those enduring is undeniably painful and uncomfortable. The Fog of Joy. This is the title of the sermon series in Ecclesiastes that our pastor has been preaching on. 

I hate fog. Simply hearing the word carries my mood down a notch. Heavy. Cold. Wet. Vague. Obscure. These are the things that come to mind when I think of fog. Where is the joy in it? 

And yet. And yet - I just love that phrase! To me, it's the lead-in for hope. That there can be hard and heavy AND YET there is joy. It is difficult to put words to but I am finding this to be so very, very true. This foggy life - we are all in it whether we like it or not - and yet there is joy. Sometimes the joy comes with patience and persistence. Or sometimes with a new lens.  

This past week, I came away from the sermon as one of those hand-holding-shoulders-touching couples. I overflowed with gratitude for the gift of a man who I could say with full confidence that I profoundly enjoyed. The joy. But then life happened and not even hours later, we misunderstood each other. And then again. And again. Miscommunication invaded and anger set in. The fog. It was thick and it settled in fast, threatening to smother the flickering joy. We disagreed. We crossed our arms and turned a stubborn shoulder, each convinced WE were the victim here. More fog. More disconnect. Distance. What started as a minor lapse in communication blew into a giant chasm with me on one side, glaring, while my husband stood on the other, dazed and bewildered. Tears, bitter words, resentment. FOG! 

And then slowly, the ice began to thaw. Warm breathes of joy. Conviction. A smile. Kisses on the neck, affection. And then spoken words of wisdom from friends: tell him why you enjoy him profoundly. Creeping joy. Next, a date. Time together, candle light. Deep questions. Curiosity expressed and interest conveyed. Joy. Reconciliation. WHOLEHEARTED joy.

Fog AND YET joy!

Doozy Days

I have a confession to make. Last night, I inhaled 2 packages of my kids' Skittles in no greater than two minutes time. And then I made chocolate chip cookie dough with no intention of ever baking it into cookies. After a few spoonfuls, I scooped some into a bowl of vanilla ice cream and devoured it and then went back AGAIN for seconds. It was not my most beautiful moment. My husband came home at 9:30 PM to find his wife in a sugar-binge-turned-stomachache, writhing on the couch in deep regret. This, my friends, is what I call stress eating.

We have had some real doozy days over here! It has gotten to the point where I find myself absolutely dreading the minutes from 3:40 PM onward. The tasks expected of me during the after school hours feel insurmountable and it's 3 against one, and the party with the majority is definitely winning. Yesterday felt pretty epic but not all that usual unfortunately. The oldest seems to have blown a fuse and her behavior has turned extremely emotional and explosive. The middle child is desperately trying to hold her own, both physically and in volume of sound. I worry about the integrity of our house because it's parts are surely being put up to the test. The baby is coy and smooth and knows just how to get all up in his sisters' hair. He is also learning lots of really cool words that no 2 year old under my roof has ever uttered, thanks to his name-calling models. I'm telling you, it feels like a mad house sometimes.

My "list" for the afternoon and evening really doesn't seem like all that much when written out:

-put away shoes, coat, backpack and lunch bag

-do homework

-make and eat dinner

-read together

-bed

Simple, right? But it is like pulling teeth, getting these 5 things happen. I told my husband yesterday that I would rather load everyone in the car and plunge our way into rush hour traffic and cruise our way around the city for 2 hours than be at home "doing life" the way it has been going down recently. And you think I'm kidding. I might actually try this next week. I feel like being under our roof during the afternoon hours is downright toxic. I'm trying so hard, you guys. But there has GOT to be a better way. I absolutely cannot sustain this. 

I know my oldest is tired. She did so well at the beginning that I thought we were in the clear but I'm sure the long hours of the school day are probably just catching up to her. I know her challenging behavior is simply an indicator of an unmet need. It's just so hard to feel like I am pulling out every ounce I've got in my reserves and attempting to pour it into her only to have her reject it or claim it isn't enough. I used to "help" her with homework remotely from the kitchen island while attempting to cook dinner. She would call me over when she had a question and I would come peek over her shoulder and answer. I was available but not present. She made it clear that this was not working for her when she one day informed me that I "was not filling her bucket." Dagger to the heart!!! She even knows all the terms to really get the mom guilt going. From that point on, I've made an intentional effort to sit right next to her while she does her homework. And now things are worse. Her homework assignment, which literally should take no more than 5 minutes has turned into a sitcom-length saga with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. The past few days, I have ended up sending her to her room multiple times each day to calm down until she is able to talk to me without whining and being disrespectful. 

It's always something. Last night she was inconsolable because her 1st grader teacher makes her hold her pencil a certain way that is different than the way her Kindergarten teacher taught her. And she likes holding it the Kindergarten way because it reminds her of Kindergarten. And if she stops doing that than she will have nothing to remind her of her beloved Kindergarten teacher... And on and on. And on. And on. I've been reading the books, y'all, so I dug real deep and showered her with a great deal of empathy. For as long as I could. We got no where. On a whim, I grabbed a napkin and drew the little cartoon pictured above, a bare bones illustration of her as the stick figure on one side of the stream and the finish line waiting for her on the other. The only way across the river is via the stepping stones. And none of them can be skipped. I told her how the first stone was the way they told her to write in Kindergarten, And now she is in first grade, they are taking what she learned and building on it and challenging her to do things she couldn't have done in Kindergarten. Well. I thought it was pretty genius. But........her homework was still sitting unfinished on the kitchen table when I got up this morning. Annnnnnnnd I stuffed my face with crap last night. So, I guess that probably tells you how it went.

Uggg. I feel at my wits end. And I only told you about a tiny 20 minute window from one afternoon this week. I spared you all the other stories of the tantrums, screaming matches and goings on with all the children that have made me feel downright twitchy and ready to lose my ever loving mind. I say all this not just to whine and complain but because I am convinced THERE HAS GOT TO BE A BETTER WAY! I am not the kind of person to give up and surrender to a this is how it is I guess mentality. I am COMMITTED to making afternoons over here better. Somehow.

Emma (or is it Emmy?) 48 Months

 This girl is her own unique ball of wax and we love her dearly! We just never know what sort of curve ball she's going to throw our way. Most recently, it was a name change. You expect those sorts of things when they're teenagers but when they are 4? Oy vey.

 Originally we'd strongly considered naming her Emmy. It was Isla's idea and we both really like it and nearly pulled the trigger but switched it up to a more traditional Emma at the last minute because "it would look better on a resume." Long story, but that's the short of it. We decided we would call her Emmy as a nickname but it just never really happened. Until two weeks ago. I went on my typical Saturday morning run and somewhere in my two hour absence, her name officially changed to Emmy. I mean, we're talking all the way down to the sign on her door. Big sis was quick to step in and make sure she know how to write a Y in place of an A and, just like that, apparently it became official. Further exploration soon revealed that daddy was the one to "change" her name. Dear Husband, I love thee. But sometimes....SOMEtimes!

Before we knew what was happening, she was correcting both family and strangers alike. And apparently teachers, which I found out when I was pulled aside quizzically by one of them who stated she was telling them all that her name wasn't Emma anymore because her "daddy changed it to Emmy." Lemme just say that was an interesting one to try and explain... I quickly forced *cough* I mean encouraged Graham to sit down and have a little chat with Emma to inform her that her name is still Emma (and that all her name tags at school are going to read Emma) but that Emmy can be a nickname if she likes it. She has mostly since forgotten and answers happily to both. Seriously. The crazy things we do as parents!

Speaking of her name, she does an excellent job of writing it ON ANY AND ALL SURFACES OF OUR HOME. It's on the back of her door (I mean, in case you forget what room you are in in the middle of the night), on her backpack (in Sharpie), on the wall and the table. When confronted on who might possibly have written her name everywhere, she's quick to tattle: "Jack!" ;)

Even if she does try to blame her trespasses on her brother, man oh man does she ever love him! The two of them play SO well together and will disappear upstairs in the late morning hours and pass the time laughing and giggling and doing who knows what. Yesterday I set them up with a spray bottle of water and a mop to "clean" the chalk dust out off the bonus room floor. They had such a blast spraying each other in the face that I could hardly stand it.  

Emma told me this month that she has a boyfriend. Isla laughed it off and said that no she didn't but Emma was quick to refute that yes she did because he was a boy and he is her friend. For a second I thought they were teenagers with how the conversation went down. Emma's "boyfriend" is super cute and they had a blast together at the pumpkin patch and apparently at school too.

I'm just DYING to know what Emma is like in the classroom setting. I literally have no idea because she's always been one to keep me on my toes. Whatever the case, I'll bet she is a riot! We have our first parent meeting next week at her preschool and I'm looking forward to hearing what they have to say about her. She can write most all of her letters now and is enjoying asking how to spell things, just like her big sis. She LOVES school and I am so grateful for that.

Other tidbits about her: 

Emma definitely is my snuggle bug

She is super tender with her little brother

And she likes to teach him all sorts of cool things like how to talk potty talk

She's taken the reigns as the early riser around here

She loves dressing up

And reading books

She knows just what buttons to push to irk her big sister

She always wants to help me in the kitchen

She loves her little buddy Leif

She's a doll and you can't help but love her

Isla 74 Months

You guys. Last month, I think for the first time in my 74 month career of motherhood, I skipped my monthly kid posts. GASP. And, as you can imagine, the perfectionist in me is having a bit of a holy freaking cow. I mean, once your track record drops below 100%, there's no way of ever redeeming it completely which is just so downright depressing that I might as well totally give up now. (Seriously, these are the sorts of crazy thoughts that run through my mind. You type A's are tracking with me, I know!)

 ANYway, I dunno. For awhile there I was thinking I would do away with my monthly posts for fear I was boring the world with far too much detail about my kids but then my heart just couldn't stand the thought of not chronicling every important milestone in their lives. These little people mean the world to me and they are so freaking cool that I just have to get back in the saddle and record their goings and doings. So here goes...

My Isla pie. Probably one of the reasons I skipped my posts last month was because I had my nose buried in a book about raising a spirited child. Isla is most certainly one of 'em and her spirit and I have had more than a few run ins on recent occasions. I'm working hard to understand her better each day and figure out what makes her tick and keeps her going.

Lately, she is an aspiring author. I love how she is just going for it and sounding out words to the best of her ability. I have to laugh because the other day she wrote me a note saying how made he was at dad because her made her wear her "tits" and she didn't want to. Tights, tits. Same difference. I have to buy reams of printer paper to keep up with the 25 page books she is constantly writing and stapling together. She plans to write both fiction and non-fiction and I think would like to drop out of school so she could pursue this endeavor. I encouraged her to clean off her desk so she could have her own private space for pumping out her novels. She has been on cloud 9 with her new set up and I have been quite pleased by the increased room cleanliness that this suggestion provided. Win, win.

Quality time is definitely one of her love languages and I think I could spend an entire day talking with her and she would still lay her head on the pillow, begging for me to come and talk some more. I'm trying really hard to savor this can't-get-enough-of-mommy period because I know it is a season and will soon fade. I'm thinking I might capitalize on her love of writing and maybe she and I could do a joint "work" date at Starbucks sometime soon where we both spend our time writing.  

In the spirit of entrepreneurship, Isla plans to sell her books here very soon and will use the earnings to fund a few of her interests. She has been saving coins for Children's Hospital for quite some time now and I need to make a point of planning a little visit over to Seattle with her to donate the contents of her piggy bank. (Hopefully the front desk accepts coins!) She also plans to give some money to church and to an orphanage and then spend the remainder on a Littlest Pet Shop toy jet she has been obsessing over for months. You gotta love her giving heart!

I got to volunteer in Isla's class for the first time this year and we had a blast. I tried super hard to be the "cool" mom and I think I succeeded because I somehow landed the role of starting and stopping the music for the Halloween party musical chairs station. She said I did awesome and that my station was her favorite. Phew. For the first time ever, I WAS ACTUALLY COOL IN SCHOOL. Now I can die happy. She was so excited to have me and I know a 6 year old's affirmation probably shouldn't carry so much weight but I'm telling you, IT DOES! 

I can tell my little extrovert does need a little time to herself in the hours after school. We are struggling with the witching hours tremendously and I'm hoping less screaming is in our future. I just read an awesome book entitled Siblings Without Rivalry and I'm really hopeful we can nip the intense rivalry between her and her sister in the bud here fast. Also, we need to find some quick solutions for making the helping-with-homework sessions go better. Let's just say these moments have confirmed for me all the more that I was not intended to homeschool her.   

And a few more tidbits:

She's about to lose her first tooth

She plans to have the tooth fairy come live with us after

She's super sensitive to loud noises

She can tie her own shoes now

She makes friends very easily

Her biggest fear is the car drop off at school 

She is convinced the school keeps moving the double doors she is supposed to go through

She's an awesome helper and party planner

She is super responsible and we love her a lot

Happy Halloween (an Ode to our Dentist)

Happy Halloween from the Crozier Clan! The past couple weeks have been packed with trips to the pumpkin patch, sewing projects, class parties, orange and black foods and lots of dressing up and pretending we are someone other than ourselves. Mama had a bit of fun this year with themed costumes for the trio. It was never my intent but I must have felt a subconscious need to butter up to the dentist this year. Isla is on the verge of losing her very first tooth and so has developed a tooth fairy obsession. When she announced that she was going to dress up as such for Halloween, I set to work figuring out how we would distinguish her from just any old fairy. Thanks to Pinterest, voila! Costume ideas for the other two were born. 

 

Jack wouldn't even let his tooth costume touch him until 10 seconds before we headed out trick or treating but when I bribed him with candy and getting to ring people's doorbells, he conceded. (Third kid = occasional food bribe. Even for dietitians. Do as I say, not as I do!)

As tradition would have it, it was POURING down rain on Halloween and Graham and his dad were busy working on our front porch so the kids and I drove each other crazy, err, I mean ran errands wearing all sorts of fun clothing combinations from the dress up bin. Which really isn't that abnormal for us except we didn't get as many weird looks since it was Halloween after all and "special" outfits were expected. 

Of course our evening plans included my annual Black and Orange Dinner which is always such a blast to put together. We opted to make it a party with friends and the kids were super excited. After 20 minutes before our guests were slated to arrive, the kids realized WE NEVER CARVED OUR PUMPKINS!!!

Oops. I sort of "forgot" and didn't realize it was so important to the tribe. I was busy getting food ready and the obvious response to their insanely messy request was a big fat no. Except I heard the word "yes" slip from the Mr's mouth. Which is another one of the hundreds of reasons why I married him. He's helping me become a yes parent when NO seems like the logical answer.

 And sure enough, the pumpkins were carved and the mess cleaned up before any of the company arrived. 

 And our kids were so happy.

 I mean, just look at 'em! 

 The rest of our evening was so much fun. The menu included orange carrots, orange peppers, black chips, orange mango salsa, black olives, black raisins, and Cuban Rice Bowls (black rice, orange sweet potatoes, black beans, orange cheddar cheese, "black" meat), roasted orange carrots and golden beets and Orange Basil Mojitos.

 I'm pretty sure the 8 kiddos present only ate chips and candy but the evening was a blast! We closed it out with trick or treating in our awesome neighborhood as the adults attempted the "herding" approach to keep all the kids somewhat "together." The highlight for the 4 two-year-olds was definitely ringing the doorbells and it certainly didn't matter whether the door was open or closed - each on rang that bell anyways.