At the end of last week I took the boys up to Whidbey with some of the family. I left Kevin at home because he’s not a huge fan of Whidbey weekends. He says, “There’s just nothing to do there!” I balk. Nothing to do? Nothing to do??! There’s EVERYTHING to do at Whidbey! Just look at all the things we did without him last week.
We dug holes:
Who doesn’t love digging holes?
We collected shells and stuff and glued them on frames (then secretly threw them away the next morning when they started smelling like dying whale breath):
We made tide pool art that didn’t smell like dying whale breath:
We had an Easter egg hunt just because.
We moved logs around.
Like, a lot of logs.
We swam in 50 degree water:
We fussed over sea stars we found in shallow water, moving them to deeper water:
We helped two sea stars fall in love:
Things progressed quickly…
The best moments aren’t even pictured here, like the giant grass man the kids built out of mounds of freshly mown grass. Or when we had to wait 45 minutes for the ferry, so I burped the ABC’s for the kids. Or when we were playing a board game and Rocco wondered, “I wonder where all the Storm Trooper pieces went” and the next minute we were trying to extract a Storm Trooper piece from Grammy’s dog’s mouth.
When the kids had gone to bed on Friday night and we ladies sat around a table playing Balderdash, my dad walked into the house carrying two giant tubs of random pens, about 8 assorted notepads, and a pound of rubber bands. We had seen him carrying random assortments of stuff into the house all weekend and I began wondering if he was just trying to mess with us to see if we noticed or if he was actually going to do something with his collection of office supplies. Either option is a real possibility with my dad.
Anyway, seeing as how we were in the middle of a game of Balderdash, we all wrote down our guesses for what Dad was doing with the pens, paper, and rubber bands. These were the options:
a) He is going to test the pens
b) He is going to see if any of us want to take some of the supplies for ourselves
c) He is going to make spit wad slingshots using the pens and rubber bands; the paper is ammo.
Then we sat there giggling and watching and giggling some more until WHAM-O, my sister got hit in the back of the head with a hunk of paper shot from a pen-and-rubber band catapult. BOO-YAH, that was MY GUESS, I’ll take my two points nana nana boo boo.
Okay, it didn’t happen exactly like that. It turns out my dad was just testing the pens, and the rubber bands were to group the working pens in bunches like “permanent” and “white board markers” when he was done. But once he heard about our little game, he did make a very wicked slingshot and nailed a couple of us with paper bullets. I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, either.
So Kevin thinks there’s nothing to do at Whidbey. I say to him: fine, stay home. That just means there will be more nothing for us. Nana nana boo boo to you, too.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Chicken noodle soup