
Oddly he doesn't look too happy about it.
The other night was hectic around our house. I broke a plate. We will have been married for 4 years this coming anniversary and I have managed to keep all of our plates, fine china and otherwise, intact. Until yesterday. I knew it was inevitable but it still made me sad. That means that I can no longer have a casual dinner party for 12 people. Someone will have to come dateless or eat off of a salad plate. To add to my despair about the broken plate, Grady, who gets free reign of the kitchen when I am trying to cook, wreaked havoc on the dogs room.
I must say I cooked a pretty yummy dinner though.
At precisely 3 o'clock this afternoon, we are packing up, strapping in, and heading up to Montreat for a fun weekend of My Father's Pizza, basketball (the good players will be on t.v., the not so hot ones will be in the driveway) and lots of lounging around. Sadly, there is no more Dew Drop Inn. I'm glad we bought the koozies while they were still around.
My son exercises more than I do. He is actually doing squats here. And he loves it. How you can laugh while squatting up and down and up and down is way beyond me. And I'm not talking about once or twice. As long as the music is playing, he is in full workout mode. He even has better buns than me.
This week we are raiding the closet for all shirts and clothes that are springy. So far, spring has been incredibly gracious to most of the living things around the house. The red birds are back too. But I can't help but wonder if I should just give up on that thing next to Grady. I like to keep dead plants around for a while in hopes that they are just hibernating and one day they will get a burst of energy and grow some leaves.
to win the tackiest house on the block award. I think I'll hold on to that idea until Grady is a little older so that I can embarrass him when he brings his friends over. Because that is what parents are supposed to do.
This is Grady and his red wagon. It is currently his most prized possession. We can no longer peacefully walk into the backyard and enjoy springs daily surprises of green(er) grass and blossoms on the trees. Nope. As soon as we near the back door the wagoneer begins pointing, grunting and trying desperately to use his little body to steer us towards the shed to retrieve that wagon. As we pass by, his little arm keeps pointing and his body rotates, making sure to keep it in sight. Remember his infamous tantrum the other night? I guess I was keeping that poor boy away from his wagon.
Grady tried to crawl outside by himself yesterday. Six more inches and he would have made it. I guess it was a tease to let him get almost there, but I whisked him away at the last second and he was mad. Furious. Madder than he has ever been with me. I put him on the floor and tried to give him his juice and he picked it up and threw it. Then he assumed his frustrated/mad/tantrum position. You can see it above. Head on the floor crying. So I took a picture and tried really hard not to laugh. He will thank me one day. It is a scary world out there for a one year to venture into alone.