For the second weekend in a row, the canned laughter of an eighties sitcom audience was not the soundtrack of our Saturday morning. Do I miss it? No, but I will say it added a certain timing to our day. First commercial break, coffee is done. Second commercial, girls start squirming for breakfast. By Joey’s third terrible joke, they start bickering over the blanket.
Instead, Cecilia, inexplicably (she’s eight, she’s rather self-involved at the moment) decided she was going to make breakfast for all of us. Even her sister. And, then she actually followed through and did it. The whole thing was more surprising then a well-executed Gibbler sub-plot.
Cecilia cracking eggs and making Mom and Dad some breakfast burritos. She made Allison some oatmeal and her “famous” sugarman toast.
Allison, of course, took full advantage of her sister’s strange change in routine to take the captain’s chair on the couch and take full control of the iPad.
There is about a month left of school here, but don’t think they are letting the kids slack off. We (it’s definitely a we) had one more project to finish after breakfast, a biography trading card. Cecilia chose Michelle Obama. She actually first chose Taylor Swift initially, but after reading the book decided there wasn’t enough to write about and switched her choice.
Allison likes to keep her sister company and complete her own (self-created) homework projects.
While this was going on, I ran out to the nursery to get some veggie plants. We still have not gotten around to putting in permanent vegetable garden beds like we had at the old house, so we’ll continue to make do with containers for another year.
Who gets to give heirloom varieties their names?
You want to know one of my lasting childhood memories? Yes, there are some Little League memories up in the old mind palace. Right next to those Shake N Bake chicken dinners, musty-smelling Hardy Boys books and Sunday night Murder, She Wrote episodes with Mom. There is also one memory that floats to the top every spring and still haunts me to this day as an adult: the slow rhythmic beeping of a truck as it backs down the driveway to dump seven cubic yards of damp, warm chocolate brown mulch.
After weeks of milestones, sacraments and Hallmark holidays, we were very behind on the yard work. Thankfully, we live on a quiet cul-de-sac and not many people have the opportunity to drive-by and give us the neighborly stink eye. Today was the day we got back in the neighborhood’s good grace. It was time to go dust off the wheel barrow for it’s annual day of use and trim our grass down to a level where Dash could actually find his ball when we play fetch.
I’ve said it before, but having little humans actually capable of helping with home maintenance is a really enjoyable perk of parenthood.
Ce (and her unique fashion sense) was very into getting the acorn weeds out of the beds.
We had been talking up the mulch delivery the last few days and Allison was ready to “mulch it.”
We took full advantage. We put them to work and cut them no slack. They did great.
Okay, we cut them a little slack for jazz hands and dance breaks. Can’t mulch without music.
Four-ish hours later that pile was gone and we had freshly mulched beds and one tired Dad. I’m pretty sure the kids could have kept working. Child labor laws are clearly too lenient.
We are not complete robber barons. After a late lunch, the kids were rewarded for their landscaping help with some slushies and playground time. Mom went off to get her haircut.
I need to find Cecilia a Ninja Warrior class, she remains freakishly strong on all playground equipment.
Still not too old to get pushed by her Dad on the swings.
Ally was very proud that she could climb just as high as her big sister on the spider web.
After a cup and half or sugar and an hour to burn it off, it was time to head home for dinner, baths and bed.
Our girls are pretty good with eating vegetables, though it skews heavily toward broccoli and edamame. The one other reliable veggie is that weird baby corn you typically find in Chinese food. They love it. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that buys those cans in the supermarket. Any time you’re dusting off the can before putting it in the cart…..
Hair washing nights still produce enough screams for Dash and I to evacuate the house.
Ally can’t fall asleep unless she has at least a dozen books in her bed with her.
Any day you get yard work done, your kids don’t bleed, the house is quiet by 8 pm and the random bottle of red wine from Trader Joe’s tastes OK. That is a good day.