Packing the car in preparation to visit my dad for a few days, Amy and the kids gave me an early (and awesome) Fathers Day gift -- one that they said would not travel well.
"Clip here. Tie there."
My plan is to make this tree beautiful and then give it to the first middle-aged woman who moves to town from New Jersey with her son who finds himself the regular victim of a gang of karate bullies.
Or maybe I'll put it by the kitchen window.
The kids headed to bed not long after we arrived at my dad's house. Enjoying the first bit of silence we'd had all day, Amy and I were sitting with him in his living room when Charlotte came out and asked for some ChapStick. Needing to retrieve hers from her purse, Amy opened to door to the room where Mason had been in bed for at least thirty minutes.
"MASON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"With a majority of the contents of my wife's purse dumped out in front of him, my three-year-old son was seconds away from painting his first masterpiece using a mascara pen. Luckily we stifled his creativity just in time.
Just in time to see the gum wrappers.
In our house, our kids are not allowed to have gum until they are five years old as younger children tend to have a chewed-to-swallowed ratio around 1:1. Although Mason knows the gum rule quite well, it's safe to say he assumed all rules were off behind closed doors at Poppy's house.
Fifteen empty wrappers. We counted fifteen wrappers.
"Mason, did you eat all of this gum?!?"
"Let me smell your breath."I stuck my nose near his mouth and detected the minty smell I fully anticipated.
"Where is all of this gum?"Of course, Mason pointed to his stomach.
Awesome. Pretty much this in real life:
For the record, Mason seems to be fine despite his stomach full of Trident.
But I'll end on a positive note. This was the view from my dad's back yard.
I always love being back home.
The Summer of Tim continues...