The Ways They Play

The boys had to take in their handsaws Friday to get sharpened. They were as dull as cardboard, and I felt bad seeing them working so hard to get results. They have put some miles on those things. We went to a local chainsaw shop and Sawyer made the transaction at the counter. He was all business. He handed over the saws and asked to have them sharpened then waited for the paperwork to be completed, and said "Mexcuse me?" (He knows it's "excuse me" but he likes how "mexcuse me" sounds better, so he says it that way - his words.)

"What else can I do for you?" The man asked him.

"Do you have any Razor tooth saws?"

I didn't even know that was a thing. Apparently, it is because the man pointed him right to what he was looking for. He examined each one, but they were far out of his budget of $1, so he was forced to put his purchase on hold.

We went home and the boys settled into riding loops around a little track they have made with their bikes. Each loop ends with the longest J shaped skid out they can manage without actually falling over. Unfortunately, they've done so many of these loops and skid outs that their tires are wearing down and Sawyer wound up with a flat. But you can't keep the boys down for long.

They were climbing trees then playing chicken chase, which is literally chasing a chicken and trying to catch it. I love their creativity, but I'm not sure the chickens are as thrilled. The hens tolerate it because the boys reward them with fresh grass, worms, and lizards - their newest occupation. They have been practicing their hunting skills on the many lizards around the property. It's not going so well for the lizards, but the chickens are huge fans.

Another favorite for the boys is riding their Tonka dump truck down all the hills around our house...except the hill by the shed. It took one sudden stop and a face plant directly into the side of the shed to put an end to that one.

By the end of the day they are bruised, scratched up, sweaty, tired and happy. Just the way we like it.

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