I see what you're doing there.

Earlier in the summer our neighbors around the corner offered us the dinosaur sandbox from their yard that Calvin has been coveting since we moved in and that their children have long since outgrown. They told us to just come by whenever we had time and take it home. A month went by while we hemmed and hawed about how to get the thing, still full of sand, back to our house—it's only half a block, do we carry it? Do we pull it on the wagon? Do we drive? Finally, after putting Calvin to bed one night, we decided to just drive over there, stash it in the back of the van, and drive it home. It was already quite dusky, almost dark, when we pulled up next to their house, opened the trunk, and started shoving the thing in, and that was when another of our neighbors drove by, slowing to a crawl to watch us stealing children's toys in the middle of the night. It's not what it looks like. Really.

We couldn't fit it far enough in to close the trunk, so we actually just backed up the street and around the corner into our driveway, trunk wide open, dinosaur peeking out. Then, after we'd carried it to the backyard and were softly discussing how exactly to settle it in its new home, I looked up at Calvin's window where I expected him to be soundly asleep. Instead, I saw, faintly outlined in the dark, the shape of our son peering quizically out his window at us.

"what are you doing?" I asked
"I'm looking at that sandbox there."
"At what?"
"At that turtle you have there."
"I don't see a turtle, I see a dinosaur."
"At that dinosaur there."
"What dinosaur?"
"That one behind you."
"I don't see a dinosaur."
"Behind you."
"I still don't see a dinosaur." (looking up and all around)
"No, look down. Down and behind you."
"Oh that! Yes, that is a sandbox for you."
"I didn't know that you would be bringing a sandbox tonight."
"No, it was a surprise."
"I like that sandbox."
"Good."

So now we have a dino sandbox, and it even came with a few toys.

Mrs. O'Leary's Cow

As seen in the Live and Learn section, which we just opened today and are still getting off the ground.

There's something wrong with this picture.

Uncle Curtis (while in the playhouse) "So, how does the stove work?"

Calvin "Don't be silly, that's a pretend stove."

Penny for your toddler thoughts

Oh to know what exactly is going on inside that toddler thinking machine.

(scene - bedtime a few nights ago, after lights out before songs)

Calvin - "talk about God."

Jon - "Okay.  God made you, God made me..."

Calvin (interrupting) - "God made everybody.  Yeah.  That must have been haaaaaard work."

(scene - grocery store produce section, picking up a ginger root)

Calvin (holding aforementioned item in his hands) - "This is a ginger root."

Me - "Yes, we need it for dinner."

Calvin - "This is an ooooodd thing."

(insert hysterical laughing coming from the nice man stocking the lettuce)

For heaven's sake

As you can probably tell by the stagnant conditions on the blog, I've been away for a short trip.   My loving husband sent me on a four day retreat to  Northern Michigan where I spent my time window shopping,  hiking ski hills, taking in the brilliant fall colors, and scrapbooking at a weekend convention.  It was a much enjoyed break, but I have always suffered from an overactive homesickness gene, an affliction that was not improved upon with the advent of motherhood, and was, therefore, itching to get home as the final day drew to a close.  I relished that first pint sized hug when I finally  arrived home, sat down to spend some play time, and though I was gone for only four days I could swear that Calvin's language developed tenfold while I was away.  Maybe it's a trick of the memory, having been working with pictures and notes taken nearly a year ago, but when I first arrived and sat down to play he was talking a mile a minute, in full sentences, and without much space for breathing.  It was while I was trying to drink in this wonderful moment that I apparently erred in my toy placement, to which Calvin responded "No, not there, the dude goes down here.  Oh for heaven's sake."  Yep, definitely tenfold.  And I really was only gone four days.