Noah was SO eager to be with our landscapers, and I wanted to encourage his desire to help them, but when he was outside he tended to get in their way - sometimes dangerously so. Which brought him inside, but only barely. He ate his lunch in this corner by the front door where he could seem them trimming the bushes on the other side of the window.
At least once a day, he asks to do the dishes. Who am I to say no? It's a good 30 minutes of hard work as the boats and trucks and little imaginary dishwashing men wreak havoc on my sink. It's possible the front of his shirt is the only thing that actually gets cleaned, but who's counting?
The other day I spilled some oats as I was making breakfast. I was sweeping them up to discard when Noah intervened. "Can I play in them?" Who needs a sandbox?
I've been wanting some more artwork upstairs, so Noah and I have been testing our collective but apparently limited artistic genius. Here's our latest. We call it, "Hands and Feet." Clever, eh?
COOKINGHe loves to crack eggs, stir, dig, pour, and generally make a yummy mess in the kitchen. As I like to say, my boys will know how to cook! (or at least make a mess.)
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