Does your dad cut your hair?

Why yes, in fact, he does!! Why do you ask?

Paige said to me on Saturday "I think you should take the boys out in the garage and cut their hair. It's getting awfully long."

"Ok! I'm going to give them mohawks then!"

While she did actually voice her approval, I'm not entirely sure she thought I would do it, since she has been wandering around muttering "It was their father's idea..." to everyone who sees them.

Including all the people at church who complimented them on their awesome hair.

So Sunday afternoon I took them on a quick boy adventure with the intention of getting some photos of the most awesomest hair ever, before Paige makes me cut it off.

Levi, quit goofing off and pay attention!


LEVI!


Alright, nobody's comin'...


Make a break for it!










OK boys, make sure you space 'em out...


And put them on both sides of the tracks...


Now we just have to wait for a train to come by!


Paige was fairly sure we were going to derail a train. Pennies can't derail a train. Removing the spikes, however...


Two down, several hundred more to go...


Kidding people... kidding! They actually found the spikes lying to the side and were attempting to put them back in. Two innocent angels like this would never get into that kind of mischief...



Today I swung by the tracks on the way home, and found 8 of the 10 pennies...


And no evidence of any derailed trains...

He's all grow'd up

Luke has been saying he wants to sleep in his big bed instead of his crib lately. So this morning we added the rails to the bed in Luke's room.

Then for his nap we tucked him into his big boy bed.

Or... ahem... his big girl bed...



Poor little boy. When he was born, Ella moved in with Levi and Noah, and Luke got his own room. Or more accurately, he got Ella's room.

Complete with pink walls, flowery bed sheets, and matching drapes.

Paige says I vowed to paint it all blue, but then I would just have to paint in all back when Ella and her "someday sister" move back in there.

So Luke sleeps in a girly room.

Poor kid. I hope we aren't hardwiring his developing brain incorrectly with all that pink...

The arsenal of democracy

We made the trek down to Tucson on Monday to deliver Girl Scout cookies. Paige had plans to take the kids to the zoo while we were there. I somehow finagled other plans...

A visit to see a small portion of the arsenal of democracy (otherwise known as the Pima Air and Space Museum.)

An SR-71. Acres of supersonic titanium, bought from the Russians and turned into a plane and then sent back over the USSR to spy on them, moving literally faster than a speeding bullet. Amazing...

The A-10 Warthog. In the dreams of my boyhood, when I was going to grow up to be a pilot, I think this was my favorite plane. Basically a flying tank, built around a gun spewing 30 mm goodness at 3,900 rounds per minute...

"Dad, what are those things?!?!" Machine guns buddy, machine guns...

"Dad, what goes in there?!?!" Atomic bombs buddy, atomic bombs...

(I think it was somewhere about this point in the trip, amidst questions about machine guns and bombs and why we needed planes packed full of both, that my wife commented on what a lovely and educational field trip I had chosen for our children. Hey, it's either that, or explaining why those two baboons are, ummm, "wrestling"...)

Heaven forbid we actually walk, you know... on the bridge.

A B-36 Peacemaker...

A B-52. No, not the ones that sing Love Shack...

This was one of two B-52's modified to carry the X-15

About to get blasted by the exhaust of an F-4...

Strolling the rows of aerodynamic goodness...

Then back to their favorite part of the whole place. The kid's area, where they could pretend to fly all the airplanes and actually climb into them.

I wasn't sure if I had ever been here as a kid. Which is odd, as many times as we drove down to Tucson in my childhood. I would have thought we would have been at least once, given my love of planes as a kid. But now that I have been there, I realize that my parents must have kept it a deep secret that there was a whole museum of planes in Tucson, because if I had known about it, I probably would have begged to go on every trip down there.

I don't think my kids (or wife) found it nearly as fascinating as I did, but I will definitely be making a trip back there sometime for a longer tour.

Boy in a bucket

I found Levi in a bucket, in the backyard, all by himself, pretending to shoot imaginary who-knows-whats. Of course, when dad appeared, he presented a much more inviting target.



I love that kid...

Rumbly truck

Luke got to go to church with me the other night to watch babies. I usually drive my truck to church at night.



Of all the kids, I think Luke likes the "rumbly truck" the most. He gets beside himself with excitement at the mere mention of a ride in it.

"I drive, I drive!" is his usual request, since he typically gets to "drive" for a spin around the block.

Little hoodlum...

Sock hoppin'

Ella's Girl Scout troop had a sock hop dance, to which the girls invited their dads.

So she got all gussied up in a poodle skirt, and I wore my usual jeans and a t-shirt attire, and we danced the night away.





So the ol' Bronco was actually born 20 years after the era of sock hops, but it served just fine as a "vintage" ride to the dance. Plus Ella is finally not so scared of loud noises and loves riding in it. Luke insisted on a quick ride around the block as well.

I didn't actually take a camera to the dance, but Ella had a blast doing a hula hoop, drinking a root beer float, and of course having her dad throw her around the dance floor.

And I only dropped her on her head one time!

Dear Mr. Addink...

I love HOAs. No, really. They are my favorite organizations on the planet.

Not.

It seems like every time our HOA decides to hire a new management company, said management company decides they need to provide justification for their existence, so they make the rounds and send people letters.

Bunch of busy bodies with nothing better to do...

Once it was because our shrubbery overhung the neighbors property line. By about 2 inches. Nearly a felony, that one. Another time it was because our screen door (that the previous owners installed) didn't match the color of the house. Us, and about every 4th house on our block (yes, I walked around and checked.) Paige called that property manager and made him cry.

Apparently this time we have "weeds" in our planter. Otherwise known as bermuda grass. Have you ever tried to keep that stuff out of a planter? It's impossible.

So rather than fight nature, we decided to go with it. If the bermuda grass keeps attempting to take over the planter, why not let it?

Plus, we discovered all kinds of cool bugs under those bricks...

Luke insisted on helping...

Now watch. That darn bermuda will refuse to grow into the freshly prepared dirt.

I swear, if we get a letter from the HOA regarding the large dirt patch in our front lawn...