Raw Footage

I just found this on my camera-- What my children do with the talent God's given them.

Lumber Jack

Did you know that before you can set up a 14 foot trampoline in your backyard, you have to clear a place for it?  Because it just can't fit in the same space as 36 twelve foot 2by4's. That's a lot of numbers in a row, and I'm not promising I got any of them correct. Let's just say a trampoline can't share the same space with a LOT of lumber.

Although Tristan started the job, it was too much for a little guy. So a big guy took over.
He did the whole thing.

Who's cloaked beneath this hooded benevolence?


His name is Greyson Jack.

 He's cool.  He has an iPod.  And the look.  And the attitude.  And Easter egg chocolate on his upper lip tying it all together.

How cool is that?

Chez Sawyer

"Hey, Sawyer, what'cha doing?"

I just love this little face.

He's very busy.
And cute.
And munchable.

I can't stand it.

Today he hurt his heel somehow and came to me saying,
"Mom, my foot elbow hurts."

I really can't stand it.

"Hey Sawyer, is your restaurant open for business yet?"

I see the makings of a fine menu.  

Condiments and wood screws.  

I've eaten worse.

Adventures With an Umbrella

 Our new deck needed a new patio table.  And then our new patio table needed a new patio umbrella.

Sawyer had a brilliant idea.

Which was quickly confiscated by Tristan. Older brother's have the power to do this.  Do NOT take your good ideas to them.

They'll let you help, but they almost always take over the implementation of a good idea because they can see so clearly how it should be done.  

Unless Mom intervenes.

Time to see if it works.

And if there's a problem, suddenly the good idea will revert back to being the little brother's idea.

Which will need a quick assessment...

And then Big Brother is back to being the boss and Little Brother is relegated to being the umbrella holder.

But little brothers almost never just hold an umbrella.

Because that's not what they were meant for.

Umbrellas were meant for twirling, and swinging, and poking eyes out and such.

Like so.

But back to the business at hand--

Just try as hard as you can...

And if that doesn't work, MAKE it work--  by trying what didn't work before, a little harder.

Are you getting all this down, Sawyer?

Little Hands

What's there in your hand, Tristan?

Note the condition of the hand. This hand would reach into a bag of chips if I let it.

It never ONCE enters their mind to leave the creek, or pause drawing on the driveway with chalk because their hands are dirty.

It just isn't an issue.

Unless they are sticky from Popsicle juice, because that won't wipe off on shorts.

But just about everything else can be found right at home on their hands at any given time.

Worms included.

They've Always Wanted a Treehouse

Doesn't every kid?  

So Tristan made one.

It made me wonder what else could have happened if we'd had these boards earlier in his life.

Sawyer was too small to navigate the tricky path it took to sit on these boards, but he didn't seem to mind.

He's either completely at home with the world, or taking evasive action against boards dropping from the sky.

I think the former.

With Sawyer, no state of being lasts long.  I'm across the yard, snapping away, waiting to see if anything transpires.

Oop, looks like something might be going on here...

What could that look mean? How did he even know I was taking pictures of him?

From this...

...to this, in a matter of seconds.  

It's so hard, being a Sawyer.

Do Skunks Pee on Food?

These are the kinds of questions it is handy to have an answer for when you become a mother. Nobody tells you you'll be needing this information. I believe, if investigated, we would find enough knowledge tucked away in the folds of a mother's brain between-- "Mom, why do they call it 'Good Friday' shouldn't they call it Bad Friday?"  and  "Mom, could there ever be another color?"-- that  it could qualify all moms for an honorary doctorate. Sadly, only their kids are privy to this information because only their kids ask.  But we have our own reward, because as every mom knows, if you get to the origin of the question you'll hit pay dirt.
Case in point--  "Do Skunks Pee on Food?"


Here is what it looks like when a skunk has not rooted up your yard for grubs:

Here is what it looks like when a skunk has rooted up your yard for grubs:

We know it was a skunk doing the rooting because last year we saw him making his nightly rounds rooting up our neighbors' yards.   He never visited our yard and that is how I knew we didn't have grubs, information that served me well in negotiating a price on our yard service.  I felt smug about this until yesterday.

 Here is what it looks like when Sawyer decides to have a picnic on our driveway.

And here is the conversation that proceeded the picnic:

"Mom, do skunks pee on food?"

sproinging sound of brain leaving current task of business on computer
Rolodex in brain spinning wildly-- skunk-- food-- pee-- computing outcome...

"No."

He is obviously relieved as he replies, "Whew, good" and then continues with just a hint of self-importance as if informing me of something I didn't know, "because if they did,  and I ate it,  you would have to give me a potato bath!"
He turns to leave with an aren't-you-glad look.  And I try not to laugh because I know he is really referring to the old remedy of taking a tomato juice bath to remove skunk odor.  Tomato, potato, it's all good.

He's happy with the results of his inquiry.  

But just in case, there's an ample supply of potatoes on hand.

Here is what Tristan had for his picnic.

Ten pound sack ought to be enough to cover both.