From the mouth of (an obviously confused) babe

The scene:

Inside the minivan, packed with our family of five and my mom, known by the kids as Oma. We were on our way to get frozen yogurt, our newest family obsession.

Oma, to my 8yo son, D: “What is your favorite flavor?”

D, easily: “Chocolate and vanilla. . .”

Oma then asked: “What is my favorite flavor?”

Silence.

Me: “D. . .you know what Oma’s favorite flavor is! It’s what mommy drinks every morning when she first wakes up!”

Silence.

D, brightly: “Oh! You mean wine!”

Curtain.

A walk in our woods

We’ve been in our home for just over a dozen years, and I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve never gone very far into the thicket behind our house. Sure, I’ve walked directly behind our house, but the low branches, the pricker bushes everywhere, and my overactive imagination (is that a coyote?) keep my feet more firmly planted on the green grass of our backyard.

To my kids however, this is The Wilderness. It is where they can have a fort made of sticks. Where they can get their feet muddy in a stream when they fall off the “bridge” they’ve constructed. Where they can hide and make up elaborate stories.

It reminds me of the woods behind my childhood neighborhood. Those woods held such imposing hills as “Big Suicide” and “Little Suicide” (shortened to Big Sewey and Little Sewey which is decidedly less imposing, though now seems appropriate since these “mountains” were really just slight inclines). There was the rusted old car decaying in those woods whose demise was the subject of many tall tales. There was a large fallen tree that the brave kids would climb (e.g., not me). We’d stay in those woods until dark when we’d run out as fast as we could because woods + dark = SCARY. Sadly, those woods are long gone, having become a housing development sometimes in the 90’s.

But the space behind our house cannot be developed due to zoning laws. I love it because it gives us privacy.My kids love it for many reasons. And yesterday, when the kids and a friend asked me to visit their secret space, I tromped and clomped through the brambles, low branches, and uneven ground to see what is so fascinating to them.

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Leading the way

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Hiding in their fort

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So close to our house, so far away in their minds

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The bridge to the other side

 

I’ve never given much thought to this “open space” behind our property, but now that I’ve seen it, I’m so glad it’s there. And I’m thankful there is no Big Suicide Hill—that was scary.

Fun with photos: Not Impressed

A few years ago, my husband found a hilarious way to keep the kids laughing while we waited and waited in lines at Disney World: Photo contests. I still laugh when I look at these pictures.

This time, he had an idea borrowed from McKayla Maroney’s not-too-happy photo at the Olympics and immortalized in mckayla’s not impressed.

 So, while we had a great time touring Philadelphia and Washington DC last month, we weren’t always impressed.

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Rough start: Not impressed with Liberty Bell but only Jilly understands what to do. . .

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Not impressed with threats of detention in Philadelphia.

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Not impressed with Old City Philadelphia. D still making fish lips.

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Not impressed with this historic Philadelphia building.

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Not impressed with a cat that doesn’t move.

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No, we’re not impressed, Franklin Fountain. (okay, yes, you were delicious)

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So, this is Capitol Hill? Not impressed.

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White House Tour before 9am? Not impressed. (really)

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Yeah, some fountain. . .not impressed.

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Yeah, yeah, yeah Air and Space Museum.

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Moon, schmoon. . .not impressed.

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D is not impressed waiting for our bike tour to start

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Jilly is not impressed with her helmet.

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I am not impressed with this close-up.

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Not impressed unless he comes to life like in the movie.

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Yeah, White House (again). Not impressed.

Please tell me we aren’t the only goofy family that fills up the camera with photos like this. I wonder what the other tourists thought of us.