School is officially out. I know this because it is already Wednesday and my children are ready to lose their minds.
E: Momomomomomomom. We should go outside and play ball.
K: What kind of ball?
E: We can just throw a ball.
K: Sorry, bud, but not today. It's raining.
I'm just going to take a little time out to discuss the rain. Global warming, global cooling, global climate change, cyclical climate change, I don't care what you call it. You know what I care about? The fact that it has rained so much in the last few months that the second the sun comes out, we all act like lunatics. I imagine this is how you people in Ireland and the Pacific Northwest feel. Of course I'm not saying that you are lunatics. I'm just saying that if this rain keeps up, we are going to have a house boat and we are a good 1/4 mile from the water. But back to my errant children.
We moaned about the rain and I went to make dinner. Not two minutes later I heard a baseball hitting my newly painted wall. This was actually a slight step down from the handstands he had been doing up against that newly painted wall. I ordered everyone outside. Rain, schmain.
First I had them dig this hole. Okay, their father dug this hole but I put them in the hole with two shovels. Then I brought their wagon over and instructed them to carry gravel in it from one side of the yard to the other. For no reason whatsoever. Did they know that? Nope. Did they care? Nope. In fact, they very cheerily worked together.
A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to protect her walls. Even if it means getting a little wet.