One of the things that I loved about being at my brother's house was that they had what we call "potato bugs" outside on their stairs. I don't think I've ever seen a potato bug here at our house, and I wanted my children to experience the fascination of a bug that rolls itself into a ball. Tres just thought they were so cool. At first I showed him a dead one that was just lying on the sidewalk. Then, the next morning as were packing up the car I heard Tres yelling, "Mama, mama! I found a potato bug!" I came outside and there he was holding this little critter. It was so much fun to show him how the potato bug rolls into a ball, and then unrolls. I think we spent a good ten minutes just playing with this little guy. I think that's some kind of theme for our family trip out west: sharing my childhood memories with my children, and letting them experience some of my favorite things about where I grew up.
Today I was sifting through all the clothing and pulling out clothes that were stained and torn, as well as clothing the children had outgrown. There was a huge pile of clothing to sort through, and an ever growing pile of clothes to donate. At one point, I pulled out a pink t-shirt and asked, "Whose is this?" Someone said it was Maryanne's, which couldn't have been true because it was a size 8. It wasn't her color anyway ... So I tossed it in the donate pile. (In hind sight, I now think my mom gave it to Maryanne for Christmas, and she said that she wasn't sure what size to get for Maryanne. Whoops on my part.) That's when Adam exclaimed that he wanted a pink shirt. Other children chimed in with, "It is his color." (Referring to his Dressing Your Truth type.) Adam bolted toward the donate pile and seized the shirt, promptly pulling it over his head and the collared shirt he had on. (Later he removed the collared shirt, after much cajoling from ...
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