Easter Egg Tree

Maybe it's the German coming out in me, or maybe I'm getting a little tacky in my old age, but I love these trees that people hang a bunch of plastic Easter eggs on. Somebody did it on our street, so S & W have been hot-to-trot to decorate one of our own deciduous specimens themselves.

By the way, fishing line is not as easy to find as you might think.

I didn't get any pictures of the actual decorating, but here's the end result:

We need more eggs. This is the AFTER after picture. The neighbors came over to help decorate, and their efforts combined with those of my offspring resulted in a seriously lopsided tree. Will kept yelling for a ladder and calling it a Christmas tree. All were disappointed in the lack of star for the tippy-top.

Mike surprised me by actually thinking it was cute. He lives in mortal fear of the lawn ornaments that are waiting to emerge for Christmas, and he chuckled nervously when I said the kids and I were going to work on a scarecrow for our garden over Spring Break. Cue the evil laugh.

Play Ball!

Sarah has, apparently, inherited the baseball gene from my side of the family. Evidently, it skipped me. All of a sudden, she was asking to play baseball, so I obliged her with a Dollar Tree bat and ball.

I'm not going to lie: the kid has more hand-eye coordination in her little finger than I do in my whole body. I think we're going to have to invest in more high-quality equipment in the near future, and she's hot-to-trot to see a real baseball game. In the meantime, enjoy the footage of backyard batting practice.

Hollow Leg

Honestly, I don’t know how this kid does it. He eats. And eats. And eats. Breakfast is Will’s favorite meal of the day, so he works on his own waffle, then he moves on to polish off Mike’s oatmeal, and then he’ll share some scrambled eggs with me.

Three Breakfasts

At an age when most toddlers’ appetites are tapering off, Will’s is chugging steadily along, gobbling up (almost) everything in its path.

Thankfully, he didn’t start out enormous. At just under 8 lbs. at birth, there was nothing to indicate that he would end up as such a hippopotamus. Will is still not what anyone would call fat, but once you pick him up, the words “solid”, “dense”, and “chiropractor” all come to mind.

Our perspective is skewed, though, because big sister is such a bird. Not skinny, but athletic and light, with an appetite to match.

Will is a scavenger, too. He’ll eat a cracker of unknown origin off the floor at the library, a petrified piece of cheese left in the play kitchen, or the last of Sarah’s melted ice cream

It just tastes that much better when you steal it.

Maybe we should try to get him his own “Toddler vs. Wild” series…