Return of the Dirt Magnet.

We've had some great rain here over the last few days, but its meant the boys, especially Caleb, have been cooped up inside the house a little more then usual. Today was the day they had to be released, as the boy-energy inside the house was reaching unsafe levels.

Preparing for the worst, they were all packed up into old clothes and boots. This time it took Caleb five minutes to reach the point of no return. He's slipping.

Oh look mama, i've got some dirt on my hand.

Amazingly, he didn't cry at all when he fell flat on his face in a puddle. He just had a bit of a taste of the water dripping into his mouth, then resumed the business of exploring the world around him.

I could hear my washing machine groaning inside the house.

Do you think I'll need to give him a bath? Or can I just get away with a change of clothes, a quick swipe of a washer, and then the carpet will take care of the rest when he's wrestling his brothers?

Contrary to what you may have thought from the last couple of posts, there are 3 other boys living in our house. Isaac got in on the act too, but he's not as close to the ground as he used to be. He won't need a bath. Yet.

Jacob always stays clean no matter what he plays in. Here he is amongst the oats which we really carefully grew around the compost pile. This was after he played in the mud. He's the total opposite to Caleb. He's a dirt resistor.

Jeremy's the smart one. He stayed in the house.

I don't know how much longer my washing machine can take it.

After putting the boys outside to play this morning I went back inside to get their hats. I was gone for no more then, say, 3 minutes when I returned to find this:

In case you didn't get it the first time, here he is again a few minutes later:

There must be some kind of record I can claim - it took Caleb no more then 3 minutes to cover himself from head to toe in dirt. What is it with boys and dirt? Growing up with three sisters, I can't remember a time any of us got this dirty. Even my tomboy sister, who loved getting dirty, chewing bones and wanted to be a daddy when she grew up (but that's another story) didn't get this dirty. Of course it may also have to do with the fact that we grew up in England, where the grass was a wee bit greener then it is out here. We also didn't have a pile of dirt sitting in the back yard just asking to be climbed up and slid on (which, incase you're wondering, is the topsoil for our future lawn).

A few minutes later he was off and running amongst the burrs, attracting more dust with each step:

Surely there must be a limit to the amount of dust the clothes can hold. Maybe I should give the washing machine a break and try the Dyson.

Ahh, my little Dirt Magnet. What is it they say? A little dirt never hurt. I wouldn't have you any other way. :)

ps: it's not a black eye, just more dirt.

:)

Slowly getting back to a new normal

We're on the tail end of being in moving mode - it's been about a month, but we've been chaotically busy with more then just moving. More on those happenings in future posts, but for now here are some pot shots of our new normal...

Caleb had the first shower in the new house:

The lounge Lego room:

Making cookies on the kitchen counter:

The walk-in pantry and it's most frequent visitor:

First brekky after moving in:

Getting ready for the first dark sleep in the new house: