"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Saturday, July 03, 2010

The Sandbox

Kris made a sandbox for the babies last week.  Izzie helped.  It's not the biggest sandbox in the world, but we live in a suburb, not the country; and my children really don't take up that much room.  It was just a big enough project for Izzie to help and feel especially proud of herself.

Be Prepared...There are a lot of pictures.  You might get bored, but I know someone who won't.  And that person is the only one that matters:p (Okay, all of you matter.)

Lets build a sandbox...

"Momma, it's heavy."
(Kris is making his stinky face.)

"Lets set it over here daddy."

Supplies...and some leftover chicken wire for the fence we made around the garden.  Those darn wabbits can't get into my garden anymore.

Izzie's pulling the extension cord over for the saw.

At least one of my children are working hard.

Lets build this thing already.  My arms are getting tired from holding this camera.

Measure it.

Mark it.

Mark it again.

"It's loud."

Leaving the dangerous wok to daddy.  I'm sure she could have handled the saw just fine.  She is my daughter after all.

Cutting.

 
Getting ready to cut again.  This is starting to get monotonous...and boring.  I could go for a nice glass of ice tea right about now.   

Apparently, I have a headless daughter.

Oh, wait.  There's her head, hiding under someones pasty, white thigh. 

Look at that kid, playing again.  No work ethic at all.

"I don't like the saw."

Dakota finally woke up from his nap.

Butt shot.

"It's like a see-saw."

Marking with the chalk line was Izzie's favorite part.

More cutting.

"Good job Daddy."

Where did everyone go?  Do I have to do all the work around here?

Found one straggler.

What's up with all the stinky faces Kris is making?

Izzie's not taking any chances.

Let's drill.

Izzie's job was to hand Kris whatever he needed, table saw excluded.

She wanted to help drill.

More screws.

More drilling.

Drill, Baby, Drill...

Look at that precision.

Hey, look who showed up to help.

Izzie is about to show us her muscles.

That's my strong, baby girl.

"I did it!"

Noah just leaves his toys everywhere.

March! March! March!

Guess what face Kris is making?

Looking more like a sand box.

Noah has to make sure it's sturdy.

Lunch time.

Glue it.

put the bottom on.

Perfect fit.

How many screws does it take to make a sandbox?

I don't know.  I'm just running out of things to say.

It's 11:26 p.m.

My brain shut off before the sun went down.

I only slept two hours last night so I'm not sure if my brain was fully operational today.

Actually, I don't remember the last time my brain was fully operational.

Izzie had to hand Kris each screw.

She also had to hop off the end every time she went to get a screw.  She had a system.

Doesn't her hair look cute?

Someone's slacking on the job...or needs a nap, whatever.

Izzie checking out her handy work.

first project completed together-check.

"This sandbox is just right for our yard."

After a refreshing and much needed nap, it was time to fill it up.  Nice tongue Dakota.

Since this part involved sand, and lots of it, Noah was all ready to help out.

It's 11:42 p.m.

I had to stop for a minute so my dad could show me how to use the bread machine he found for me at one of his thrift stores.  Yes, I'm unfamiliar with the bread machine.  I use a much older method called 'the old fashioned way.'

How many bags of sand does it take to fill a sandbox?

I don't know.  I didn't count them.

My daughter looks a little dazed.  Too much sun or maybe it was working outside all day. I kid.   

More sand...

Wow, sand.  I know exciting.  I'm just full of words tonight people.

Izzie doing what she does best, directing.

Some people like to call it bossing.  Well, at least my daughter takes initiative.

Lookin' good.

Finally, ready for the babies to fill every crevice of their body with sand.

Aww, there's even room for Uncle Jojo.

As you can see, Izzie has made herself right at home.

She stopped for a minute to acknowledge my presence.

Give a boy a sandbox...And he still wants to play with shoes.

He was trying to put one of Izzie's sandals on...

*There should be a picture here of Noah falling backwards out of the sandbox and landing on his tush.  But the picture was accidentally erased and since I'm at my parents house using their laptop, I can't put the picture back up.*

*There was also a picture here rounding out our sandbox building adventure but it too was 'accidentally' erased.  I think the laptop is jealous of all the fun my kids are having.  And if you're going to tell me that laptops don't have feelings, of course they don't.  That would be ridiculous.  They do however sometimes project their feelings through their users which can result in nasty behavior*

So there you have it.  Now you know how to build a sandbox.  The babies love it, which means I love it.  I can actually work on my tan and maybe take a nap while they play away. I kid.  There's no sleeping on the job.

It's 12:08 which means it is now July fourth.  Happy Independence Day everyone.  Don't blow yourself or anyone else up.  When say 'yourself', I mean my husband.  And when I say 'anyone else', I mean the congregation during the church services tomorrow.  I know for sure confetti canyons are involved and knowing Kris that is just the tip of what he has planned.

Goodnight...Oh, and just in case you were wondering, it is possible for fully clothed children to get sand in every crevice of their body.   

 

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