One Hundred Decibels

“AAH! AAH! AAAAAAH!”

I looked at Oxbear while we listened to the boys yell bloody murder in high pitched giggles at each other from the other room.

“Do you think they ever get tired of hearing themselves scream?” I finally asked.

Two sons, one just as loud as the other. My level of noise tolerance has increased to the point where sometimes I don’t even notice the yelling.

The noise took a temporary backseat as we drove out into the rain to find breakfast at a local bakery in Kirkwood. It doesn’t always calm down the crazy, but occasionally a ride in Oxbear’s truck will muffle the uproarious laughter.

When we got back about an hour and a half later, full of bacon, egg, and cheese croissant sandwiches, the bedlam resumed. Both boys rolled around wrestling on my bed.

“YALI! I COULD EAT ALL OF YOUR LITTLE PIGGIES FOR BREAKFAST!”

“NOOOO!!”

“YES!!”

“NOOOO!!”

“PIGGIES! HA HA HA HA!”

“AAAAAAAH! HA HA HA HA!”