First Things First...

Let me first dive into a shameful admittance...

Remember the soccer pictures of last post?  Ryan almost melted into a puddle of spousal embarrassment at those.  There were my little kids with their EXPOSED shin guards.  And there was there oblivious mama who had hurriedly and cluelessly dressed them for their first soccer practice.  I have since repented, added cleats to their gear, and crossed my heart to never repeat such a tragic error again.  Because if I do, I'll probably be down a husband.  :)

Really, can I tell you what?  I played soccer when I was five.  Our town was so tiny we didn't even have a high school soccer team or even a rec program beyond the ripe old age of eight?  So there... my excuse for all to hear.  I feel better.

Moving on.

I almost filed a missing persons report the other day.  Ace was gone. Vanished into thin air.  He had been playing in the back yard which is fully fenced and safe, so I just knew that either a bald eagle had swooped down and flown him away to his nest, or a very bad guy had come and kidnapped him.

I decided to race around the yard one more time... somewhat frantically, searching and of course employing shrill name calling... and finally, the little stink answered, from inside the covered boat.  You see, he must have thought it would be fun to give himself heat stroke and sneak on up there through the temporarily uncovered bow to "Drive Drive Drive"?

If you need more attention, little man, just ask.  I can't take much more of this.

Then I was missing another little boy who got to go out on the town with Grandma and Grandma Gardner for a belated birthday date.  They took him to the Tracy Aviary which is probably one of the best choices ever because every day since I have been asked when he can go feed fish to the Peh-wickens.  You know, the pelicans.

{The headlamp is the new "toddler camera" for those of you not in the know.}

Look how huge our big boy is?  I could just kill over and die at the speed with which he has turned into a giant little man.  And, do note the airplane he selected... "The hunting one," of course.

And lastly, meet our family's pokey little puppy.  Dax is the speediest bike rider, runner, four-wheeler-er we have ever known, and yet, if you ask him to come inside, or eat his dinner, or get in the car... just prepare yourself to watch the minute hand tick right on by.  He moves SOOO slowly it pains me.  Selective movement.  Different from selective hearing, but along the same lines, you know?

So, there you have it.  A Monday post that excludes every cool thing we did this weekend.  Because?  Because Mama was in holiday mode.  Nice.