Our satellite dish is broken and rats have chewed through the electrical wiring on the hot tub (which oddly enough resembles an old monitor plug...who knew?). The kids have declared that in case of such emergency (the lack of Little Einsteins in the morning), they will instead dig holes and play in the mud. I'm supposed to be impressed they get Barnabas to dig holes for them, but I'm not. And yes Jamie, I have noticed he can dig faster and deeper than either you or Charlie.
We have played in the mud every day since last Thurs, not counting the weekend, and each time it started without my knowledge. It's like they wait and watch, distract me with a plea for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and Bam! they're out the door and in the mud before you can say scudder's-all-natural-peanut-butter. I do what any self respecting person would do in the same situation. I join in on the mudflinging until all we can see is the whites of each others eyeballs and then I hose everyone off. The lawn gets watered, the kids get bathed, and everybody's happy. Until the next day when they do it all over again. Urgh.




I'm snowed under an immense pile of photo editing and even with the addition of Lightroom, thirty min of Dora the Explorer would help tremendously. I'm putting up a few of a family photoshoot this afternoon, and some of a wedding I shot last weekend. So if you want to check them out, go take a peek at my photography blog.