When it rains, we bowl

It was a rainy day here on the NC coast. Rain + 8 people in a rented house = cabin fever. Lindsey, however, had an idea to salvage the morning. Bowling! It was Makena, Reese and Sophie's (and Stone's) first bowling experience and it was great. I have to admit, though, they might have been more excited about the shoes than bowling.
Who, exactly, is in charge of designing bowling shoes?
We used the ramp...and these were the responses...dancing a la Saturday Night Fever
...and these were the responses...dancing a la Saturday Night Fever.
I mean, really. I can't describe how hilarious the dancing was!

Lassie = cause for tears

Ahhh...the 50s and 60s. The era of family friendly TV, no gratuitous sex, no foul language, no violence included in shows aimed for the preschool set. Horses talked, families smiled at each other all day, and pigs lived with displaced debutantes in farmhouses. One dog in particular, however, is sure to be a safe watch for your children, right?
Wrong.
Reese is destined to be a veterinarian or the president of PETA. She would rather spend time with just about any given animal (minus a "wask" (wasp)) than people. So...when Lassie got hurt during her debut 1964 episode (available on channel 853 for you Charlotte TW peeps)...she bawled. I wasn't even paying attention to her (I mean really, it's Lassie, not something I need to fast-forward various parts). Brett walked in from work and said "Reese, what's wrong??". I looked over and her bottom lip was quivering and a flood of tears was about to flow. "LASSIE HURT HER LEEEEEEEEGGGGG"
Oh dear. That was 5 minutes of consoling and promising that it was all pretend. So sad!

20 Questions, Anyone?

I read somewhere recently that the average 4-year-old asks 400 questions every day. Being the incredibly intellectual skeptic that I am, I quickly employed all my past learning and came to the astute conclusion that you can't trust everything you read on the interwebs. Obviously "they"' were wrong. Then, I started paying attention.
The first morning I took notice Makena had topped 50 within the first hour of the day. Granted, many (I repeat, many) questions get repeated ad nauseum, but still. By 8:30, she had gathered every detail on what we were planning, who had just called (and what that person was doing, where she was going, where her kids were, what she ate for breakfast...), and the movie Brett and I watched the night before.
Today, we went down to the greenway to ride bikes. Great outing if you haven't tried it yet! Anyway- here's a sample of the questions she asked:

• are there snakes in that water?
• is that a snake?
• are there snakes in that grass?
• can I pet your dog? (repeat for every dog we passed- at least 15)
• (to the elderly gentleman out for a leisurly bike ride) why are you not wearing a helmet?
• (to the lady jogging who was not slender but clearly not pregnant) do you have a baby in your tummy?
• is that a playground? (no, it's someone's back yard)
• why? (because it is- do you see the fence around it?)
• can we play in it? (no)
• why? (because it's someone's back yard)
• why? (because it is, do you see the fence around it?)
• can we play in it? .....
• why is that man riding so fast? (I don't know, maybe he's in a hurry)
• (to fast man) why are you in a hurry?

So there you have 14 questions- a fraction of what came out of her mouth during our hour-and-fifteen minute outing. Reese is coming along, too. Thankfully, she hasn't gotten to the point of asking the same thing 27 times yet. I'm sure that day is not far off.

It's only half a mile

around our block. Our neighborhood is relatively small and has no pass-through streets. Walks are a safe way to kill some time. How much time? Well, our half-mile loop can easily take 45 minutes...and that's if we don't stop and talk to anyone...which is rare since we know just about everyone along the route.
Today, I chronicled our adventure. Yes, I wore my camera around my neck and looked like an all-around dofus, but I finally have a visual explanation for Brett when he asks "how can it take you that long to go around the block?".
Leaving the house...there's usually a quick race somewhere in our own yard.
Then there's the stop at Bogey's mailbox flowerbed (that would be our next-door neighbor)...that gets us to 5 minutes
A little numeral-recognition lesson in front of various houses (here we're still at Bogey's..no progress...3 more minutes...up to 8 now)
This bit makes me queasy- they insist on walking on the curbs above the storm drains like balance beams. Lather, rinse, repeat at least three times per drain (this one happens to be in front of...you guessed it...Bogey's house...if you're following me, that's over 10 minutes to make it one house down the street)
Street rock.
Hmmm...odd looking mushrooms. Must inspect. I'm guessing we're up to 15 minutes now- and only 4 houses down.
This is the best rock-collecting spot along the way. Pick them up here...
...and drop them in front of the next house (doesn't matter- we don't know them). Then check out the construction going on at Ms. Susan's house, push the (empty) swing at Ms. Alison's...we're up to 25 minutes now
Is the bunny still there? Highly possible since this house's owner isn't terribly concerned with his undergrowth. Rabbit heaven. Neighbor nightmare.
Street finger wound. That one puzzled me.
Oooo...the semi-circle. Random asphalt anomaly that demands squealing "my semi-circleeeee" and sprinting the last 10 yards toward it. Makes for a nice rest stop and, considering we've been at it 30 minutes now, we need it.
Ms. Sterling's Bunny Rabbit Ears. Soft. Touch only.
The little angel in Ms. Kasten's mailbox flower pot. He usually needs a pat on the head.
Another balance beam! Three rounds of this ought to get us to 35 minutes.
Funny little "baby with a chipmunk/frog/squirrel on his tummy" (kids never can remember what it is so they just pick one- it's actually a chipmunk)
By this point, we're about to turn the last corner for home and my patience is waning. Or gone. The last 5 houses go by painfully slowly and there's really nothing interesting of note to entertain them along the way. Finally, 45 minutes later, we arrive home. Some of us ready for a nap, others ready to sing Christmas carols at the tops of their lungs in their beds for 20 minutes.