Why can't evenings always be like this?

The big boys unload the dishwasher while mom fries tortillas.
(Dugovic tacos, here we come!)
Tennyson sits in his little bouncer chair on the kitchen floor and smiles at all the action.
(And probably smiles a little because the chair is vibrating his bum.)
We sit down at the table and actually have a conversation.
The boys clear the table while mom rinses dishes.
The boys turn on really loud hip hop music and start break dancing in the living room.
The dogs are flipping in circles and barking with excitement.
(They like break dancing too.)
Tennyson is laughing.
Mom is still doing the last of the dishes.
Tennyson barfs milkies all over his shirt.
Mom decides that now would be the perfect time for a bath.
Mom strips Tentens down and puts him in the (now clean) kitchen sink.
He smiles and coos and smiles and coos.
Kort comes running in to tell me about the new move dad taught him,
but is immediately distracted by baby brother.
Kort smiles and talks baby talk.
Tentens smiles bigger than ever and responds with a big "Ah - goo!!"
In doing so, he surprises himself and looks at us with wide-eyes as if to say:
"Did that come out of me?!"
We all laugh.
Daddy gets Kort in his jams.
Mom gets Tennyson in his jams.
Kort and Dad read poems from "A light in the Attic"
Mom and Tentens listen.
Mom tucks Kort into bed and tells him about a fun surprise.
(She just bought the "Pass of all Passes" to Seven Peaks and Trafalga good for 1 year starting now... for the whole family!)
He squeals and claps, and hugs mom not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR times.
Then mom leaves him to nod off with dreams of endless rounds at the batting cages and race car slick tracks dancing around in his head.

Hm. It's (fleeting and completely rare) times like these that make me think that maybe I can have five boys... or six.

Because I'm delusional like that...

and because I really like babies.