Let’s Go to the Pond

there’s really no place better, let’s go to the pond…. (If you don’t know the song then before you read the article you have got to visit here. We sing this song EVERY time we go to the pond–at least I do–the kids groan along and repeatedly request that I stop singing.)

Issac walking around the pond.

On Thursday I realized that my son’s only pair of still intact jeans had a giant hole in the knee, were slightly too tight and definitely too short. (“I can button them if I hold in my tummy like this, Mom.”) So Buddy and I headed to Kmart (the closest non-thrift shop that might possibly have his size–7 Slim) so he could try on some pants and I could figure out what size he really is wearing. Turns out they had them on sale AND in his size. Which was good–because my boy is picky and all the other pants they had were about 3 inches too big in the waist.

Girls in the woods.

Upon returning home from shopping for pants (he was less than thrilled that I not only made him go along but TRY THEM ON), we discovered that my dad had borrowed the girls. I should explain that earlier in the day the girls had decided to build a tree house in the rather tall tree out back. When I realized that they had used 1 inch nails to nail an old piece of pressed wood from hubby’s old desk to the tree–sticking out like a shelf, and that they believed that this shelf would actually hold one of them, 8 feet up, I told them to call Pappap before they did anything else. They did and he said he would come look later. Not only did he do that but he whisked them off to the pond to look for a better tree for tree house building, volunteering my brother as a helper for building.

Rachel

Issac and I immediately turned around and followed them to the pond where we found them taking a walk in the woods while they waited for Uncle James to get home.

Skipping stones

While waiting the kids relearned skipping stones.

Skipping stones
James leaving the big yellow bus.

And when Uncle James got there they attacked him–at my dad’s prompting.
How would you like to be attacked by this mob immediately after school.
My poor, poor baby brother. 🙂

To be continued…

Chase