Lets go outside
Stephen and I have gotten into a habit. In the morning, he finds his shoes, brings them to me and I help him put them on. Then he reaches up as far as his little arms can, takes my hand and leads me to the door. He points and babbles something that I've taken to mean- "Lets go outside, big sister!" So we do. We go feed and water my 200 chicks, pat them on the head and scream at them. (Only he does that though. I'm much to ladylike to be seen yelling at chickens.) After that, we might go swing, or pull some weeds. Or bury our faces in one of the Pyrenees fluffy white coats. We'll go see the pigs, the ducks, the goose, the peacock. Or torment the cat (visit my sister's blog sometime today to see that... hilarious.)
He's getting to be quite the poser, too. Which is not necessarily a good thing, because he stops and sticks his face in the camera and grins crazily. I think that might have something to do with his big sister Lydia. She likes to do that all the time. Monkey see, monkey do. Right? And he is most assuredly a monkey. A farmer boy monkey. A monkey farmer boy. A boy farmer monkey. A farmer monkey boy. Never mind.
The point is, he and I like to go outside and have fun. He's getting very big and he likes dirt.
Oh yeah and, only four days until The Hunger Games. Just thought I would point that out, you might have forgotten. Or something. The world will be watching.
How's your Monday going, loves?