I am determined to get better at all things "boy". Actually, God is going to demand it if I shall survive raising three boys.
This really doesn't have anything to with the fact that I punked out on the half-marathon I was supposed to run. What can I say, I was NO WHERE near ready to do it. As in, the furthest I'd run was 1/2 the distance of a 1/2. What can I say? I don't want to lose ALL the baby weight too soon.
But, I digress. We've had a lot of rain here. And, a lot of rain means a lot of worms. And, a lot of worms mean a lot of excitement from 2 little boys. I was fixing supper the other night when Isaac comes barreling in the house/kitchen with a hand FULL of worms. But, proof of my wimpiness subsiding is evident in the fact that I didn't scream or freak out. I told him that was great after he felt the need to thrust the entire handful as close to my face as he could and then told him that worms liked to be outside. Then, I prayed fervently that he a) would listen and b) made it outside before tripping.
Some of the "grands" at the farm eating cookies!
Luke getting his first 4-wheeler ride with Poppa!
Rub-a-dub-dub, three sweet boys in the tub!