Those magnificent boys and their flying machines

Saturday I was instructed to take all the children out of the house, for several hours, so that Paige could clean the house thoroughly.  We had our home study renewal visit on Saturday, so naturally the house had to be un-naturally clean.  Funny story at the end of this post about the visit.

So after running some errands, the kids and I headed to the hobby store for some fun.

As we were checking out, Ella asked me "Dad, did you play with these when you were a kid?"


"Yup!"


"Because that was the only toys they had back then?"


"Yup!"

And off to the park we went for some balsa airplane flying.

While we were playing, we even saw these rumble over. Must have been an airshow in town, that we were unfortunately missing.

Luke was unable to wind the rubber band motor and quickly gave up.

Unfortunately, I should have read the directions a little more closely. Apparently these are recommended for ages 10 and up. And there is a definite reason. Five year old boys do a marvelous job of quickly converting $25 worth of high performance balsa plane into scrap wood...

Oh well, they had fun.


So funny home study story...

At our first home study, Luke was down for a nap the entire time, so our social worker never actually saw him. This time he was awake and playing with the other kids. Partway through our interview, all the kids wandered in from the backyard and upstairs to play, past where we were sitting at the downstairs kitchen table.

The social worker asked about Luke. Paige described him as any loving mother would... easy going, well behaved, total momma's boy, and even potty trained now at an early age!

Not thirty seconds after giving this glowing review of her youngest child...

Ella, yelling from upstairs: "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Luke pooped in his pants!"

So Paige heads upstairs to change him. Downstairs, the social worker and I talk, while from upstairs drifts down the sounds of the mother of all tantrums. Luke had a bloody fit, I'm still not sure exactly why.

She returns a few minutes later and joins us at the table again. I can still hear Luke whimpering and fussing upstairs.

Thirty seconds later...

Ella, emerging down the stairs: "Mom. Luke is calling you 'poopy.' "

"OK, thanks Ella. Head upstairs and just ignore him."

Thirty seconds later...

Noah, thumping down the stairs: "Mom. Luke is calling you a "poopy head mommy.' "

Aye carrumba.

So much for potty trained, well behaved, and momma's boy.

The social worker thought it was funny (I think.) We joked that all our kids were probably upstairs plotting... "Let's have Luke poop in his pants and then call people potty talk! There's no way mom and dad will spank us with the social worker here!"

At least, I hope the social worker knew were were joking...