James, Reese, and I were moseying around the backyard yesterday seeing what there was to be seen. As we strolled around the trees, we noticed a plethora of these creepy creatures:
There were at least five of these empty shells on each tree trunk. We walked around each tree and brushed them onto the ground. If I had to name that game, I'd call it "flick it" or something, because that's what we did. Keep in mind, I never touched one of these suckers. Not once. James was carrying a toy with him. He used said toy to flick the cicada shells to the ground. So James never touched one either. Reese, however, is a different story. She boldly grabbed them with her bare hands. Ew ew ew. If we were keeping score in our game of Flick It, she would've definitely won for the most cicadas flicked.
She is woman hear her ROAR. This picture isn't from yesterday, but it shows her personality well...
After that game ended and all the trees were ridded of their ghostly freeloaders, we moved on to attempting to weed one of our flower beds. I put on gloves. James put on gloves, but didn't touch the dirt. He just wandered around the yard marveling at his gloved hands. Reese opted out of gloves and dove hands first into the dirt. Raise your hand if you're surprised.
I made a little bit of progress. Not a lot, but a little...
See how there is WAY MORE grass/weeds/green stuff on the left, inside the "flower bed" than there is on the "grass" side, on the right?? It's shameful, really. What can I say...I'm not a yard work person. As if I need to tell you that after sharing that photo...
I would've made more progress (possibly) except for how helpful Reese was. As I was bent over pulling weeds, she managed to get a handful of dirt projectiled through the air in the exact right fashion that a whole lot of it ended up in my below-the-belt undergarments. NOT COOL Reese, NOT COOL. I reprimanded her for throwing dirt and continued on my quest. I figured I could handle a little dirt in some awkward places. That's what showers are for.
A few moments later, having not heeded my stern instruction, Reese launched another fistful of dirt at me, this time it hit my head and upper body, a fair amount miraculously ending up in my above-the-belt undergarments. This was the last straw for me. Apparently having dirt in my underwear was okay, but DIRT IN MY BRA and in my hair was just too much. I fussed at her again and dragged all of us inside for baths/showers. James looked confused, appropriately so, since he was the only clean one of us at that point.
I share this story so that years from now, when Reese wants my help raising a mess-loving daughter of her own, I can point her back to her own childhood and snicker, just like my mom is doing now...
1 comment:
And you would be right, I'm laughing my head off!!!!
Although you did some pretty gutsy things, like super gluing yourself to a plastic mattress, and squeezing out of a chain link fence gate…
And, we need to figure out why the grass grows better in the flower bed than in the yard! Is it because the flower beds have a sprinkler system and get watered?
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