If you give ’em an inch . . .

Thank you, thank you, to all my neighbors who bring me squash. Yeah! I don't have to grown it myself. I just haven't had time for a garden the last few years. Maybe next. For real, next year. Anyhow, I made spaghetti squash last night with a marinara sauce that included peppers and at least three other kinds of squash. It was pretty darn good, and I'm not even a very good cook.

I ate tomatoes, peaches, carrots and peppers all day because they were sitting on my cupboard and easy and I'd sworn not to eat anything off of any child's left behind plate, even my own kid's. Not even one cheerio, or the last half of a broken cracker left in the box–they add up, you know. Twenty pounds worth in the last 13 months, to be exact.  Lost 1.2 pounds from yesterday at 5 am to today at 5am, if you believe that sort of thing. I plan on gaining it all back tonight, as everyone is going to be gone by six, so we're thinking dinner out and the rodeo. How is it possible that my children don't know what a Rodeo is?

Wow, these kids are crazy today, even at "naptime". Maybe they know it's Friday?

We built this deck/porch/playground thing–I've been taking pictures all summer so I can post a picture time line because it's really changed our house–my own parents drove right past and missed it.

Anyhow. Point being. It was supposed to keep the kids in, off the street, out of the dirt–we even put rubber down in the play area under the slide and climbing toys so there wouldn't be sand, dirt, gravel or slivers to deal with. They beg daily to go out, but they always drift toward the street, no matter what, so I keep saying, when the porch is done, you can go out.

Guess what they did, first day?

Pushed toys out between the railing so they could ask to go get them. (NO)  Or didn't ask, in the case of one old enough to reach the latch, though I'd expressly told him not to touch the gate for any reason. Stuck their hands out under the railing and pulled up the grass, scattered it all over the porch and brought fistfuls into the house. Then when I ignored that–really, it's just mess right? They started digging up the dirt that was under the grass they pulled out and brought in handfuls of that.

Sigh.

That or stood next to the gate and slammed their behinds against it repeatedly to make the latch jingle.

It's not like we built them a cramped little playground. We're talking sixty-five feet by . . . I don't know, thirty?

If I poured a cement strip all the way around the porch to make mowing easier, and prevent the grass/dirt thing, and blocked the gate so it doesn't jingle, will they just find some other mischief? I'm fairly certain they will. One thing's for sure–I'm not hooking up the doorbell any time soon.

 

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