Blasting from the Past

We had a mild, (since it was the Sabbath), but enjoyable 4th of July filled with sparklers, a homemade parade, flag waving, and awesome, super powerful...SMOKE.   The fireworks I purchased at the local grocery store weren't really fireworks at all. The kids were thrilled by the colorful gases, but I wasn't too terribly impressed.  I guess they should be labeled "smokeworks" instead. Thanks to our crazy neighbors and all of their illegal firecrackers the kids saw a good show in the comfort of our backyard just as dusk was settling in. 

Let the fun begin! Glad the big tall KIDS are supervising.

Good times with stellar friends!

Whew. That is some awesome smoke. Go smoke.

Who's that guy with the hot legs and hospital shoes?

Addie: "Mom, do you know why Theron is my friend?"  Me: "Why's that Addie?"  Addie: "Because I love him and that's what Jesus said we should do." 

  Sweet Avery seems a bit nervous this messy faced kid with a shovel in his hand has plopped down right next to her. Dirty face and still a good looking guy!

The party starts when you add a little potting soil to the ice cream cones.

Sometimes potty training can be pretty exhausting.  So much that you're so tired of practicing on the throne it hardly matters you've fallen asleep on the couch...bottomless.

Sweet boy with his upside down personal dose of Heroine. We can't show this picture to him until next year. The memory is too fresh of how good life was as an addict. 

A few weeks ago just as  I realized I hadn't heard or seen Coy for a good chunk of time Shyler inquired as to his whereabouts.   We both began searching the house.  It was just too quiet. This usually indicates Coy is drinking out of  the toilet or leaving a trail of baby powder through the hallway.  I won. I found our sweet boy sound asleep on his bruiser brother's bed. Apparently he climbed on and couldn't quite figure how to get off.  He has recently gone off the binkie...cold turkey. The first week of withdrawal was a bit rough.  We're on week two and he's doing quite well.  Sometimes he points and grunts to the drawer where his pacifier  used to be. We are cruel and simply walk away leaving him in a tearful heap on the floor beneath the magical drawer.   

Shyler was at a posh conference in D.C. a few weeks ago. (I say "posh" because a lot of stops get pulled out for these medical conferences.  He sends me pictures of his ritzy accommodations and Fillet Mignon meals.   I wish to reply with pictures of dirty diapers and Ramen noodles).  The kids and I passed the time by snapping beans during an evening showing of The Jungle Book 2.   Well, I snapped and they munched.  I feel funny telling my kids to stop eating all the beans.  It was all going well until I found an appetizer while retrieving more bottles from the basement. See below.

Whoever bites down on something extra fuzzy and juicy gets the gold star! What!? Waste not, want not.

I decided to buzz the boys one day because I was hot.

What do you think? Dashle's hair line in 55 years? Pretty sweet.

Coy and Dashle are starting to act irritated with strangers and their lack of knowledge on personal space. We met Shyler at the Children's Hospital last week for lunch and while waiting for him a little girl started rubbing Dashle's head and asked him where his hair went.  He yelled, "Stop touching my head!" I told him to speak kind words and then he said, "Please-- STOP TOUCHING MY HEAD!" 

Dashle is just as loyal as a dog to its master. Perhaps he is even better because he sure adores his dad.  Dashle found dear old dad fast asleep on the floor after church and decided to join him. He nudged Shyler and said, "Dad...psst!  Dad!  Here's your pillow. Lift your head up." 

These are the besties. They stayed over last Wednesday and Thursday night. They drove their moving truck and two cars into our neighborhood and onto our driveway.  They ate our food, slept in our beds, used our shower, and played with our kids.  We took some "see you later" pictures. Then they decided to be rude and move far away.  Nice.  Love you guys.   Trabis--try to get a job this year, okay?