More Pictures

I'm tired, and waiting for a munchkin (who keeps screaming, "Moooooommmmmm!" from the upstairs tub) to finish her bathing. (And now she's crying, since her screaming didn't do the trick. She's as stubborn as her father, so let's see just how long she'll sit in what's probably now cold water and cry.) So, while she reeks out her drama for this hour of the day, I will upload pictures. Hooray!

As I upload: Oh, what drama, I tell you! Wailing, crying, and finally, I hear her let the water out. What a little rascal she is. She's not hurt; she's just upset that I didn't come running to her every whim. Training, I tell you; it's all in the training. Give in now and you'll have a monster on your hands when hormones set in. Put in the hard work now, and you'll still have a monster on your hands when the hormones set in, but at least you'll have respect.

Anyway, this is my life: I've just gotten out of the shower, turban wrapped head and all, and I slip into the kitchen to grab my protein shake, only to find my favorite son, sitting at the bar with, yes, swimming goggles on. While eating. Goggles. Breakfast. I didn't really know they went together....perhaps it's eye protection in case there's splashing whilst the force of the spoon on the milk, plus the gravitational and centripetal force, causes a great tidal wave of milk to defy gravity and thrust itself onto the cornea? I mean, at least, that's my best guess.

Then there's:

Yes, my favorite son again, the architect. This was his latest construction project. It is rather elaborate, but you can't quite see that from the picture.

And don't you just LOVE all those stickers he put all over his train table?

Thanks to Little Terror, there's also a Barbie sticker completely stuck on one of the dressers....gripe, gripe, gripe.

But anyway, isn't my favorite son so incredibly astute and as cute as a bug?


Now, you've got to love this, dd2' very own paper doll; drawn, cut and colored from her own imagination. This is the daughter that isn't the academic all star or book worm; she's much more than that. She may struggle with words, but her hands create some of the most artistic things.

I happen to like the dress she made for the doll--don't you just love the pattern and colors?

And you've got to love my white and gold flecked retro counter top beneath the doll. Isn't that gorgeous? (Hey, at least it's not GREEN like the old house!) Old houses, ya gotta love 'em! I'd take one over a new construction any day of the week!





Now this was fun. Field trip day in true Western fashion--I loved it! Though most of the activities were for the kids, I wanted to feed the calf, and ride the horse, milk the goat and run the cattle shoot. But no, no, no, I behaved myself, took pictures, and was the cheerleader for my team of little curious minds.







































I don't get it. Why go to the park with your kids and then sit on a bench and watch them play? Why not play with them. Perhaps I'm the one with a few screws loose, but I love to play at the park with my kids. I actually find it a bit bothersome when another adult comes along and expects me to sit and chat with them when I'd rather be riding the merry-go-round. (Shhhh, don't let that secret out!)

Here we were making a "train" on the slide. I must have been the cushion, as I got sat on a lot, but it was a ton of fun. I'm wondering just how long the City will leave up this old-school, high, un-gaurded, burn-your-butt-in-the-hot-sun slide. Until then, "choo choo!"




Time for just one more pic.... I had a Scensty party a while back. It was hard work smelling all those scents! I think I was completely high afterwards. Of course, I don't know what it feels like be high, so maybe I wasn't. Either way, I got tickled watching some of the kiddos go through the scents...they'd pick through the baskets and repeat the comments that they'd heard the adults say earlier. "Oh no, I could never have that smell in my house." Or, "A little too sweet."

Kids are so impreshionalbe, let's hope we shape the next generation in a way that brings a brighter future.

Now, off to detangle the mass of curls I've genetically passed on to my big blue eyes, too-big-for-her-shorts daughter. (Do you know any other 4 year old that not only tells you how to drive, "No Mom, you're going the wrong way. Turn here." but also gives shopping advice? "Mom, this one is bigger and costs not so much dollars."

Lord, help me!