By the by, did I mention we have chickens again?  That’s kind of key information for this story.

Aaaannyway, what you see are called poultry nipples and they came from this website.  I spent $35 for 3 nipples and the special bit to drill the right size holes which seems like a lot until you realize that a regular chicken waterer costs $25 – $45 AND has to be disinfected regularly.  You know, because it’s full of poo. … eww.

It took Dora and I approximately 10 minutes to complete the installation.  We drilled 3 holes in a small bucket I had around, screwed in the nipples and hung that bucket in our temporary brooder.  Soooo, easy. (That’s the same amount of time it usually takes me to clean and refill their traditional waterer.)  Our 6 chicks are 2 and 3 weeks old.  The smartest among them took a mere 10 minutes to figure out the trick of pecking for water while the most cautious waited 30.

I guess she was wanting to see if any of the others died first.  Come to think of it.  Maybe that makes her the smartest.

… as well as the most elaborately coiffed.

Brother’s Caption:

One time a boy was rolling his car down a hill and then his car began rolling by itself and then another boy saw the car and he was finished with his popsicle and there was no more popsicle juice on it so he put it in the car because it was headed toward a trashcan.  A little girl stopped the car and the popsicle stick flew into the trashcan that was just up ahead.  Right after, the little girl put her bread in the car (that was fake) and then the first little boy who lost his car got his car back after the little girl played with it for a while.  And everyone in this story became friends.

Sister’s Caption

The stick and the roll were driving along in their car when all of a sudden the car came to life!  It captured the stick and the roll and took them to its home planet of Mechanica.  There the Mechanicians forced them to tell about Earth’s battle tactics.  And they moved in and took over the Earth.

The End

     *one very clean dollar bill

     *a Lego Hero Factory hand

     *two elegant drop earrings (No one in our home has pierced ears.)

     *several store receipts

     *one shipping receipt from three weeks ago

     *a tennis ball

     *and a partridge in a pear tree

Okay, maybe not that last one but the rest of it is not atypical.  What treasures does laundry at your house bring?

When he walked up carrying only his keys and a small package, I breathed a sigh of relief.  Small package = small toy = happy mama.  Un-wrappng time came and with it the true meaning of “assembly required” revealed itself.  A hundred or so tiny pieces littered the dining table.  There was talk of special tools and a “couple hours.”  Excited children bounced here and there examining shiny bits and baubles. “What’s this?!” “What does that do?!” “Can I help?!”

I shook my head and quietly excused myself from the room.  I could see the inevitable end … a beautiful gift ruined for lack of a single lost piece and I needed time alone for determining how best to soothe the impending disappointment.  Also, I couldn’t stand to watch the drama unfold.

But, I was wrong.  Delightfully, wrong.

Granddad had judged these children better than I.  And the finished product which they all built together is almost as impressive as the memories they’ll keep of an afternoon with Granddad.

**The toy Granddad brought was a model Stirling Engine.  It runs off the heat generated from an ethyl alcohol flame and makes a lovely put-put sound as it does so.

Will and Sister have gone for pizza.  Brother plays with Legos upstairs and I am holding Z, cranky and clingy from the after effects of a too short nap. (Z, not me).

“Oh, Dora.  Mommy can’t make cookies right now.”

She either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.  Most likely, it’s the latter.

“I know!  I get the red book.”

Away she runs to the bookcase, returning with the familiar red edition of Betty Crocker that’s been with me since high school.  I am engaged in calming Mr. Cranky and only half notice as she struggles the book to the countertop.

“OKAY!”  she exclaims in triumph. “Now, I need a stool.”

She pulls a chair from the table, wrangles it into position, and climbs aboard.

“OKAY!” she declares a second time.

“Dora, we can’t make cookies now.”

She flips to the Appetizer section first. “We need sugar.” Then on to Breads. “We need eggs.” One more flip.  “And we need chocolate cookies!”

If you’d been there, you wouldn’t have been able to say no either.

Today was our homeschool co-op’s annual Valentine party.  The kids are divided by age group and then make Valentine’s for those friends.  They put said Valentine’s in decorated boxes (or bags) and one presumes said boxes to be decorated with a traditional Valentine theme of love.  Not so.

This is Brother’s box:

(see this link if you don’t already know that Heroica is battle game … with monsters and barbarians and such.)

In years past, he had a box with Spiderman swinging to the rescue (of some poor soul about to fall in love, no doubt.)

It’s not that he refuses to have a box with hearts and the like. No, what makes it humorous is that he is utterly oblivious to the fact that hearts are even an option.

I used to worry about such incongruities but having four children changes your perspective.  Namely, you have learned to nurture their creativity; helping it blossom into something beautiful are too tired to care.  And as it turned out his box sitting next to the volcano and monkey and micro-fridge seemed right at home.

Sister is not oblivious. Her box will have hearts. It will be pink. It will exude love and be utterly appropriate.

Her Valentine’s however will have animals …always, with the animals.  She’s done flamingoes, cut out animals with cute saying and little animal trivia and this year.  She’s “wild about you, Valentine.”

Inspired by an article in Family Fun magazine.

Brother stuck with being a funny boy.

The Littles seem oblivious to the reason behind all this heart hoopla but they’re cute enough that no one cares.

Though when I look in my rear-view mirror and see this

I know they’ve got this love thing down without having to be told a thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I am thankful for my ancestors.  The ones who were not afraid to leave comfort behind in search of a better life.  I am thankful they found that life and passed it on to me.

I am thankful for abundance.  The life I live is not one of “getting by.” My Lord has been gracious enough to supply all my needs and more.  Truly “my cup runneth over.”

I am thankful for the authority of the believer.  That is to say,  I am thankful that the Creator of the universe promises to back me up anytime Satan chooses to attack me or my family.  Because He calls me His child, I can face the enemy with fear or hesitation.  I am often remiss in exercising my authority but it exists nonetheless.

I am thankful for America.  Despite its flaws, it is still, in my humble opinion, the greatest nation on the earth today and I am blessed to live here.

To play along, I’m passing it on to Jennifer at Just Wedeminute and per instructions including 7 things about myself.

1. All of my children were born without the use of an epidural and I would love to say there were lofty philosophical reasons for doing so but sadly, no.  I was (and still am) afraid of the idea of a needle … in. my. spine.

2. #1 eventually led me to have 3 children at home, in the water, with the help of my husband and midwife.  Some people say that’s crazy.  Others say it’s courageous.  Whichever one is true, I know that I am stronger for the experience and I wouldn’t change it BUT if I ever have another child I’m thinking about trying the drugs because I’m not as young as I used to be and birth is HARD.

3. I prefer my chocolate dark and very cold.

4. My first real job was scooping ice cream at Braum’s. So was my second job and my third.  Though somewhere in there I got promoted to the grocery side which was great because it meant that I no longer left the store each evening covered in ice cream spatters.  Also, I got a snazzy apron upgrade…. which I still own.  I look back on those days and know that without them I would never have been able to impress my children my mad scooping skillz nor would I know that it’s “sherbET” not “sherBERT”. 

5. Prior to college I had never heard of the Animaniacs but thanks to the girl next door (who was anything but, BTW) by the end of my first year I not only knew who they were but I could sing Yakko’s Nations of the World song.  Interestingly, I still can; except of course that a lot of the nations have changed so it’s not nearly as impressive as it used to be.

6.  I can also sing the ABC song backwards because you never know when you might be called on to entertain the president … or a two year old.

7. My favorite poem is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost because it’s beautiful and it’s true.  This is closely followed by This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams because it’s beautiful and it’s true.  Both are the story of my life except in the case of the plums, no one would have written a note.  Instead there would only be sticky fingerprints left behind to tell the tale.

Please go vote, if you are so inclined but be warned, the HS Blog Awards are best enjoyed with a nice, hot cup o’ tea and lots of free time.  Good stuff.

Take Dora to the park and she will make a bee-line for either the swings or the slide.  Walk her past our neighbors swingset and your answer of, “No, not now.” will fall on deaf ears and crying eyes.

Compelling evidence for getting a swingset/fort of our own, so when a neighbor let on that she was selling hers, Will and I jumped at the chance to get one for under a gazillion dollars.

After that, all we had to do was move it….

The extraneous pieces came first.

It’s so hard to resist climbing on them.

Then the main structure.

Yep, that’s my dad.

Why yes, it is rather precariously balanced on that trailer.

Did I ever tell you about the time my sister needed to move a big screen TV from her third story apartment.  This was pre-flatscreens.  Imagine one of those huge box kind.  My dad couldn’t figure out how to get it down the stairs (nevermind that the movers had somehow gotten it UP the stairs) so he tied a rope around it and chunked it over the balcony.  Ok, ok – he gently lowered it to the ground but it was over the balcony.  He’s a get ‘er done kind of guy.

Moment of truth – will it tip …. or, snap

This shot doesn’t have anything to do with the swing. It’s just cute.

Sorry, back to the moment of truth.

It looks like ….

Success!  Backwards.  This is my dad saying, “Okay now we have to turn it around.”

Another cute shot.

I won’t bore you with all the less exciting setup details except to say that the structure was (amazingly) playable before sunset.  And boy, did they play.

Dora loves the swings the best but she went down that humongous slide several times with no fear.  Funny thing was that the next morning, because of course she started in first thing, she wouldn’t go down it at all.

Me: “Let me see you go down the slide!”

Dora: (pause ~ look over the precipice ~ then, oh so sweetly) “No thank you.  Green slide too big.”

Sister soon convinced her otherwise and now she zooms down at a breakneck speed.

Love this for them!  Love it!  Thanks Grandpa for the help!