M-cycle

The other night we pulled the minivan into the garage. We looked over to where F usually parks and he'd pulled the riding lawn mower in and parked it. We all got out of the van and T and I proceeded to head into the sun porch.
We looked around as we hung up our bags and realized that we left M behind in the garage. I peeked in and she was sitting in the lawn mower seat.
I told her she could stay there a bit as I got things situated (ahem, put sweatpants on) for the evening.

I came back about 5 minutes later. She was still sitting on the seat.

I approached her and she waved her arms furiously and squealed "NO! NO! NO!." (This behavior usually indicates that I am not welcome to come in and make the fun end.)
I asked her what her plans were.

"Driving. NEED to drive." she said.
"Drive the motorcycle."

She sweetly patted the steering wheel of the lawn mower.

Well, bless her little "motorcycle" lovin' heart.

We had a picnic supper in the garage that night. All the while, M sat upon the "motorcycle" and pushed every button possible to push and pulled every knob possible to pull.
Occasionally she would sob a little and say, "It's not working. It's not working." I would remind her that she could sit on it but was not allowed to actually drive yet.

She would sigh, and grip the wheel tightly with both hands, "Vrrrrooom. Vrroooommm."

Look out world.

autonomy

I LIKE kids with a little autonomy, a little agency, a little go get it-ness. I like to hear things like,

"Sure. I'll do it Mommy. I can put my own shoes on."

or

"I want to get forks for everybody."

or

"I'll wash my own face."

or

"I'll just pick out my own underpants today."

Imagine my combination of horror and delight when I heard the T-monster exclaim last night, "Oh no! My ball went up on the roof!"

and I sighed and said, "That's okay honey. You can play with something else for now. We'll let a strong wind blow it off." (This "strong wind" idea because we never have ponied up for a ladder tall enough to reach up there...)

And then, instead of hearing a disappointed boy voice, I heard a little perky kid holler over to me:

"That's just okay Mommy! It's not EVEN a problem! I'll just go and get a shovel! I'm just gonna whack it off the roof with that big shovel we've got!"

And he went and got the big shovel from where it was leaning by the garden and he proceeded to drag the heavy and long and big shovel (all the while grunting and stammering) over to where he thought the ball had been lost on the roof and he attempted to raise the big shovel high enough into the air to whack the ball off of the roof. ..Near the only windows that don't let in cold air. ..Near our nice siding. ..Near our garden swing...The big shovel wildly out of control, swinging in the air, the little 3 year old boy staggering under its big shovel weight like a drunkard in the early morning light.

And do you think I put a stop to this madness?

Heck no.

Boys

All together.

Classic "mafia" pose.

The mafia begins to giggle and look less threatening.

Cute and sweet.

Whether they like it or not.

Easter food

For Easter, I forced my family to eat "Jellied Gazpacho" from the New Joys of Jell-o cookbook. It may be the last meal I ever host.

I thrifted that cookbook and I've been dying to try one of the non-dessert recipes. At least I picked one without meat to start out with. Bwahahahaha.