Signs that we are housing an impending 2-year old:
He’s in charge of the garlic bread. He lovingly flips the garlic bread while I finish our primavera. When I’m not paying attention he steals a slice and hides behind the living room chair, and is able to gnaw off and consume about half of it. Yes, while still frozen.
I pull out our winter gear to go through it and pack it up. He formulates an outfit. (Note to self: WASH YOUR MITTENS.)
Anything that causes even the smallest of laughs from mom (ex: wiping your nose in a weird manner) means it is totally time for him to add that move into the repertoire of Awesome Party Tricks. And then perform at random moments throughout the day.
Yeah, so there’s that. And I’ve been totally bad about taking out my camera throughout the week, so you’re getting weekend-only type photos. I’m sure you will survive after hearing this news.
Saturday morning I had my yard sale – I thought about sending my stuff down to Joplin, but after hearing report after report after report, pleading people to “please stop inundating us with STUFF, we don’t have the staff nor the circumstances to handle it”, I thought it was best to have a sale instead and send money 🙂 So that was how I spent my Saturday morning, I had about 20 boxes of stuff to start and ended up sending 6 boxes off to Goodwill after all was said and done, so we got rid of a ton of stuff. I can’t even tell you how fantastic it feels to have all that out of my house. Plus I had a few fun conversations with my shoppers, including an older gentleman who was clearly my slow-cooker soul mate and, after purchasing a few books, we got on the subject of slow-cooker cookbooks and discussed our favorite books/recipes for a good half an hour. He rocked.
Sunday we headed to Deanna Rose, our friends Julie and Dan (and baby Bridge!) met up with us. It was hot and sunnier than we expected (dear weatherman: it was anything but “overcast”, thanks for your help). We still had a blast.
They have a “train” made out of barrels when you first step in. Needless to say we spent some time goofing there.
We visited the chicken coop.
We set up a shot to make it look like Bridget was milking the cow. She was not exactly into it. As you can tell by the less than loveable look she gave me afterwards.
Next we visited the baby goats. Peter loooooved them, loved them. He ran around the pen in complete rapture, randomly hugging them. Even if it meant awkwardly wrapping his arms around them while other people were trying to feed them bottles.
We hit up the park. Pete was enamored with the bouncy riding animals (he tried out almost every single one).
So then we went to see the grown-up goats waaaay in the back of the place; my theory is that’s where all the cute baby goats go to while their days away after they are no longer teeny and cute. And they are totally completely and absolutely NOT like their baby counterparts. They were more stinky. They were more pushy about getting some food, like JUST GIVE ME MY FOOD PELLETS, WOMAN, STOP HANDING THEM TO THE KID WHO DROPS THEM ON THE GROUND GAWD. When our heads were turned one of them totally tried to run off with Julie’s diaper bag. Then another one looked us in the eye and proceeded to sneeze (or… intentionally spit?) chunks of food, goo, spit, and snot all over us. We proceeded to scream and flap our hands like the brave adult women that we are. Anyway, clearly the baby needed a bath and dry under the blow-dryer thingies after that.
A little more Bridget, for your viewing pleasure.
Then we went home. Took a loooooong nap on the drive (reality: maybe half an hour). Made granola bars, made fudgesicles, made dinner. Jumped on the bed. A LOT. And yeah, suddenly it’s Sunday night and thank goodness, but tomorrow is Memorial Day so we get to sleep in a little bit. BLISS.
We’ll write more tomorrow. Until then.