3.30.2009
3.01.2009
Lost Boys
Came downstairs this morning to find this.
Friday night Erik came home from the store with the boys and their new $5.50 bows and arrows. Immediately this was added to what I think of as "unexpected allowances" — things that, if you had asked me when I righteously started out on this parenting adventure, I would never have allowed. Four-year-olds watching Star Wars movies? No. Seven-year-olds in wrestling? No. Bows and arrows? NO. But, you know, boys happen.
They woke up before dawn and started playing "Indians." They made headdresses with elaborate scenes drawn on them. Explanation of Eli's headdress: "The Indians are running away from the big bear into the house, and then the chief Indian came and he got out his bow and arrow and starting shooting the bear." Explanation of Jackie's headdress: "A bunch of Indians and the sun (the sun has sunglasses) are running away from the big tornado and one Indian got sucked up into the tornado and some of the Indians are trying to take the sun's sunglasses." Epic.
They drew pictures of animals and taped them to the wall and hunted them, colored a fire to cook with, and built an earthen lodge out of couch cushions.
Eli appointed himself Chief, and Jackie was "Chief's Apprentice." Jackie would begin a sentence with, "Eli?...," then cut himself off and say, "I mean, excuse me, Chief?"
Here they enjoy a brief breakfast break — cereal for the Chief, oatmeal (two helpings) for the Chief's Apprentice.
Chief dragging Chief's Apprentice off the battlefield.
"You were shot the in back with two arrows, but you're going to be okay. I'm going to get the medicine man."
Then Erik woke up, made himself an even more elaborate headdress than either of theirs, and announced, "There's a new chief in town, boys."
And that's why he, my friends, is the source of all my unexpected allowances.
Friday night Erik came home from the store with the boys and their new $5.50 bows and arrows. Immediately this was added to what I think of as "unexpected allowances" — things that, if you had asked me when I righteously started out on this parenting adventure, I would never have allowed. Four-year-olds watching Star Wars movies? No. Seven-year-olds in wrestling? No. Bows and arrows? NO. But, you know, boys happen.
They woke up before dawn and started playing "Indians." They made headdresses with elaborate scenes drawn on them. Explanation of Eli's headdress: "The Indians are running away from the big bear into the house, and then the chief Indian came and he got out his bow and arrow and starting shooting the bear." Explanation of Jackie's headdress: "A bunch of Indians and the sun (the sun has sunglasses) are running away from the big tornado and one Indian got sucked up into the tornado and some of the Indians are trying to take the sun's sunglasses." Epic.They drew pictures of animals and taped them to the wall and hunted them, colored a fire to cook with, and built an earthen lodge out of couch cushions.
Eli appointed himself Chief, and Jackie was "Chief's Apprentice." Jackie would begin a sentence with, "Eli?...," then cut himself off and say, "I mean, excuse me, Chief?"
Here they enjoy a brief breakfast break — cereal for the Chief, oatmeal (two helpings) for the Chief's Apprentice.
Chief dragging Chief's Apprentice off the battlefield.
"You were shot the in back with two arrows, but you're going to be okay. I'm going to get the medicine man."Then Erik woke up, made himself an even more elaborate headdress than either of theirs, and announced, "There's a new chief in town, boys."
And that's why he, my friends, is the source of all my unexpected allowances.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
