Not my most brilliant moment - to give Hydn free reign of his tomato soup.
However, instead I think I will place full blame
on a bib that doesn't seem to know it's duty.
However, instead I think I will place full blame
on a bib that doesn't seem to know it's duty.
Hydn has only owned rain boots before this momentous day.
Prior to that he borrowed a pair of shoes for a wedding, and at all other times
has gone a la' natural. Shoes = Pain in the Patoot to Put On, and
he hates them.
I pick my battles.
However, I decided it was finally time to face my Bunker Hill,
as I was getting looks and comments that said, "Bad Mother!".
So, with heroic effort, I fought and won.
For exactly fifteen minutes. And, then, exactly like Bunker Hill, I
had to face defeat. I hold out hope that Yorktown is just around
the corner.
Bert, with a lot of help, is finally reassembling and
putting up the swing set with the tractor.
I get it now, why he drug his feet.
Calder decided that with the older two boys getting into shape he
would attempt the impossible as well.
He chose to forgo the weights and running, and went the route of boxing. Except he had
nobody to box. So, he made a punching bag.
It's held up surprisingly well for a feed sack.
It could be due, in part, to the brick placed squarely
in the middle of it - "to help weight it down."
And although there is a warning
not to hit that spot
(that even OSHA would approve), it kind of puts a damper on
'giving it your all.'
Til next time.
Rachel
