Mooch

Despite the fact that we are normally quite boring and sedentary, Labor Day weekend turned out to be packed with activities. Friday evening we joined friends on their boat for some tubing, cruising, and dining on the lake. Are there any better friends than friends with a boat? Thanks to the Prestons for their hospitality and good company.

Saturday was spent getting chores accomplished around the house, followed by the viewing of UT’s 50-0 win over a state university (ahem, UT Martin) with Mimi and Hots. Thanks to Mimi and Hots for getting the game on pay-per-view. Are there any better in-laws than in-laws who buy games on pay-per-view and then buy your dinner?

Sunday I rose early and traveled down to Fayetteville, Tennessee for a dove hunt with Grandfather and longtime family friend, Bill Simms. Bill was kind enough to host me and Grandfather in his hometown, and it was fun to hear the stories from when he and his brother Bob grew up in the small town. The dove field was huge, and there was plenty of space for the hunters to spread out. Unfortunately, the birds did not find our particular field very attractive that day. So it was basically sitting in the sun in a corn field all day. Each of us got to shoot at 1 or 2 birds that happened to come our way, but the shots were more warning than execution. Guess that’s what we get for trying to shoot the bird of peace on the day of rest. Thanks to Bill for hosting us. Are there any better friends than friends with access to a dove field?

Monday morning we gathered up the children and headed to exotic Kentucky for a trip to Dinosaur World. We took the stroller, but Jonas immediately demanded to be up-mmm. He was so excited to get to walk the dinosaur trails all by himself. So excited, in fact, that he kept running ahead of us. When we would shout for him to wait, he would turn around, looking horrified, and scream at the top of his lungs. Other than my concern for the bursa sack in Kyle’s elbow, which overnight had grown from “sore” to an infected pocket of fluid the size of a golf ball, we had a lovely time.

Having had enough of paying our own way, we ventured over to Todd and Mary Day’s house for a free meal and free swim on Monday evening. Are there any better relatives than relatives with their own pool and an open grill?

Heard during car transport this week:

Kyle: Scotlen, you’re so smart.
Scotlen: I know.
Kyle: Scotlen when somebody says something nice to you, like “you’re beautiful” or “you’re smart,” you are supposed to say thank you.
Scotlen: But I already know I’m smart and beautiful.

I think we are going to need to purchase another parenting book.

I did take this quality picture of a hawk on the hunting trip. I did not, of course, shoot at the hawk. But I was tempted to shoot at some of the hawk-sized dragon flies in the field.

I also took this picture of a brown praying mantis. See it? There on the stalk? Seriously, it's right there. The praying mantis had a thing for me. First I found it hanging out on the barrel of my gun. Later I found it had snuggled up in my hair. I had to resist the urge to squeal, as that is not very hunter-like.

Jonas checks for pursuers. Perhaps he was trying to abandon us and find a new family at Dinosaur World.

Scotlen tries to slow him down a bit.

The magic. The magesty. The mammoth.

Clearly riding the triceratops was more thrilling for Kyle than for Jonas.

The experts may poo-poo the bargaining parenting strategy, but Kyle and I see it as a method of survival. Scotlen has been accumulating an ever-growing pile of toys that must be on her bed before she goes to sleep. The pile rises a foot and a half in the air and covers most of the bed. It is a huge pain in the you-know-what to put the toys up there each night and then put them in the bin the next morning. And somehow, she always knows if one tiny animal is missing.

First we tried mandatory layoffs, but there was a lot of screaming and crying, which we found undesirable. Then we tried adding placement and removal of these toys to Scotlen's list of chores as a deterrant, but it was excruciating to watch her place each toy on the bed, one by one, in ultra-slow fashion, with comments on each particular item. Scotlen merely used this strategy as an excuse to elongate the bedtime routine.

So . . . we got a little desparate. Scotlen hasn't been exposed to too many advertisements, but she has seen the infomercial for "Pillow Pets" on PBS a few times. And she's been talking about Pillow Pets nonstop. When we discovered that Pillow Pets were available at our local drug store, we told Scotlen she could have one if she would agree to drastically cut down on the number of toys she takes to bed each night. This strategy may not be expert-approved, but it freaking worked.

Scotlen was thrilled to recieve her unicorn. I mean thrilled. She walked around the house, holding it and saying, "the girl said I would fall in love with my pillow pet, and I am, I am in love with my pillow pet." And we are in love with the fact that we're now down to 12 toys on the bed at night.