So I contemplated not posting anything on the blog tonight, because, in all actuality, today is a holiday. I thought, “You know, I don’t know if I’ll have time to put a real blog post up, because we’re so busy celebrating Columbus Day and how he sailed the ocean blue in 1492.” I had the boys make paper mache ships of the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria that we could set on the counters and admire for many more Columbus Days to come. It was like the best Pinterest moment ever.
Oh, not really, people. We celebrated Columbus Day by sitting in front of our fireplace and watching TV, because the rain and snow combination outside created the perfect ingredients for a Slop Storm, and ain’t nobody got time to go outside in that. Plus? Paper mache? My high-strung, firstborn personality wouldn’t be able to handle that craft with children.
Or even by myself, for that matter.
All that paper pulp and glue that is paper mache is something Thing 2 could spread from here to Spain. There’s not enough blood pressure medication in an entire pharmacy to get me through that situation.
But here we are, coming down off of our weekend, and I do have some snapshots for y’all.
Last Thursday, we pulled a double-header on soccer games. Cousin L played at 4:00, and the boy chased that with his own 5:00 game. There was a playground at the field where we played, which Thing 2 announced was his. The slide? Yes; that was his, and he was prepared to die on that hill and push any child off that dared to claim differently. The swings? His, and he wanted to use them NOW. The sand? Also his. If he was questioned about it, he just threw sand at the person doing the asking.
Also? Well, it was bitter cold at those soccer games, because this is fall in Small Town. We’re not Florida, people.
Enzo ended up wearing it, because when you’re in the 7th grade and you think you’re too cool to wear winter gear, you tend to freeze. When you tend to freeze, you’ll steal hats from babies and sweatshirts from friends in the name of self-preservation.
And do you know all those ESCAPE FROM THIS OR THAT PRISON type movies? And how the prisoner finally tunnels his way out after forty-six years of digging? And then he just kind of takes off, running for the border and freedom?
Thing 2 did that a couple of times. He saw a chance to FLY! FLY, LITTLE BIRD, AND BE FREE! and he took it. Thankfully, we had 7th grade boys who are in shape and could do a little jogging with him.
(Frankly, I was in love with the static-look of his hair whenever he’d whip down one of the slides.)
We played McKinley’s team. McKinley has been our little friend since FOREVER AND EVER, because her daddy and Hubs have been best friends since they were 7th graders. I won’t even go into the amount of trouble those two caused together back “in the day,” but now they’re both respectable grownups with cute kids.
And McKinley? Well, she can play some soccer.
And by play some soccer, I mean she’s averaging a hat trick in every game, scoring goal after goal after goal. She’s exactly like a seventy-pound freight train whenever she gets that ball. I told the boy, “Keep your eye on McKinley; you know she’s going to try to beat you guys.”
And she did. The score was 0 to 2. McKinley scored both of those for her team. I told her that we might like her again one day, but on Thursday night, we just wanted to throw rotten tomatoes at her.
And I’m totally kidding with the rotten tomatoes. If there ever existed a girl WITHOUT an ego or pride, it’s McKinley. She’s the sweetest thing ever, and she’s exactly what Jesus would want an 8th grade girl to be.
By the end of the soccer game, Thing 2 had run the equivalent of four entire marathons, so he just laid down in the gravel for a breather. He had no desire to move any more, because EXHAUSTION! This pose would have been nice for him to take while the game was going on, so that folks could have… you know!… WATCHED the game, instead of chasing him to the ends of the earth that Columbus sailed to discover for us.
Mam loves The Littles.
Slides always trump shots on goal, but shots on goal are a blast. On Saturday morning, we played soccer in our cul de sac with the toddler.
You should know that he’s fast… and he cheats. If he thinks someone else is going to kick the ball, he just picks it up and carries it at a dead run. Apparently the NO HANDS IN SOCCER rule applies only to other people.
On Saturday afternoon, we headed out of town to the local pumpkin patch, where you pay an astronomical fee for pumpkins. However, can you really put a price tag on a great hay ride, in a tractor-pulled wagon, and the memories of your one-and-a-half-year-old melting down with a fit of nuclear proportions because the pumpkin patch’s insurance policy forbids him from driving the tractor?
No. No, you cannot.
McKinley, Kiley and Avery joined our boys and Enzo, and we had a fantastic time, despite the fact that it was STINKING COLD.
Enzo decided he’d go ahead and take the smallest pumpkin he could find.
I cannot even look at these next two pictures without quoting that line, over and over and over again!
(Especially if the pumpkin is the equivalent of 83% of your own body weight!)
The kids used the hot cups of hot cocoa to defrost themselves.
There’s my entire heart, right here:
(The answer is YES. Enzo is in counseling for his shyness in front of a camera lens. We’re really hoping that he’ll learn to blossom and show some personality.)
And then it snowed.
And then it snow-rained.
It was one of the sloppiest, bone-chilling-cold days we’ve had in a long, long time. The boy didn’t have school, because COLUMBUS DAY! Instead of being very crafty by making paper mache ships in honor of the day, we spent the morning at Sister’s house.
And then we came home, where we sat on our sofa in front of the fireplace, with the TV going.
I think we might make this our family’s tradition on how we celebrate Columbus Day.
Stay warm. Unless you live in Florida or Texas, and then my words to you are, “I hope you get a day soon where it’s not 133 degrees.”