On October 1st, during quiet time, Owen filled a gallon-sized ziploc with water and carried it to his room--about four times. I'm not sure what the plan was. I think he was trying to create something. A moat? An island? A water park? Praise the Lord for the rubber-backed rug that was resting under his drowning block creation.
On October 4th, I was sitting quietly at my kitchen desk, writing. It was nap/quiet time. Owen appeared beside me. I did not speak to or look at him (because it's quiet time and I try to avoid giving him attention when he's supposed to be in his room). Finally he said quietly and with a note of trepidation, "Mom, look at me." All I could do was stare. He had given himself a haircut. A very BAD haircut:
When I asked him what he had done, he handed me this:
On October 4th, I was sitting quietly at my kitchen desk, writing. It was nap/quiet time. Owen appeared beside me. I did not speak to or look at him (because it's quiet time and I try to avoid giving him attention when he's supposed to be in his room). Finally he said quietly and with a note of trepidation, "Mom, look at me." All I could do was stare. He had given himself a haircut. A very BAD haircut:
When I asked him what he had done, he handed me this:
We were about to leave for swim lessons, so there was nothing I could do. As soon as his swim instructor saw him, she laughed. She suggested I put some gel in his hair and get him in an emo band. By this time, every glance in his direction made me want to giggle. His daddy didn't quite see the humor in the situation when he got up from sleeping off his night shift. We immediately left for a family trip to Great Clips, where the stylist very seriously explained to Owen that in the future, he will need a license to cut hair.October 5th: tree removal. The kids were both mesmerized by the equipment, workers, and noise. Here they are, literally hanging out of the window.
October 6th: camping in the backyard. I love camping. I love the night sounds, the cool weather that makes you snuggle down into your sleeping bag, the campfire. Since camping with a 20 month old is not the easiest thing in the world, we decidied to make use of our very own piece of the great outdoors. Charlotte went to sleep as usual in her crib, the monitor went in the kitchen window, and we sat by the lake, roasting marshmallows. Owen held the flashlight under his chin and told "scary" stories. He and Daddy spent the night soaking up the camping goodness, while I went back in to make sure the baby didn't burn down the house. I can't wait until she's old enough to come join in the fun.October 7th: Dixie Classic Fair. Petting zoo. Pig races. Demolition derby (where Owen and Will got sprayed with dirt--does it get more awesome than that?). Fried candy bar. Cotton candy. Ferris wheel. I think I may start a countdown for next year. .jpg)
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1 comment:
careful now, we may get used to Alley family editorials :-)
What a delight to see Charlotte standing all on her own!!
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