All Smiles

Hey there!

So... I just had a cool transformative-type thing happen.  I need to let it settle a bit before I can even begin to tell you about it.  Whatever form that may take!

Just know that all is well.

And here are a couple fun pics of Brady P. that just happened this last week.  Our town really has a lot of great depth and character.

A cucumber in the garden

When your neighbor is a T-Rex!

 I hope this Wednesday finds you well!

XOXOXOXOXO!

Mushrooms, Cars and Hot Sauce

Hi!

This is Braeden.

Me and Mummy went on a hike tonight.

It was super fun.

I wanted to play hide-and-seek on the trail, but Mummy said we should find mushrooms.  She called, "Ready or not, Mushrooms.  Here we come!"

And then we looked along the path for mushrooms while we walked.  We found yellow ones, orange ones, brown ones that looked like poop, purple ones with water on top, white ones, tiny red ones that were hiding and some with spots.

I even found one all by myself way down on the side.  It was a reddish-pinkish one.  Mummy was proud.

Sometimes we found one cuz Mummy hid behind a tree.  I was being a zombie, so she ran away and then she would hide cuz she was scared.  When I find her I have to say, "Mummy, it's just me!" and I give her a hug so she's not scared.

I like to be a zombie and chase her through the woods. She really gets scared and hides.  I like it cuz I get her every time.

Sometimes I get to sit outside in the front yard and watch the cars go by.  I see motorcycles and trucks and jeeps and vans and campers and four-wheelers and bicycles and puppies and lots of people.  

I like to say hi and wave to the people.  Sometimes I go pet the puppy if Mummy says it's okay.

There are a super lot of cars that go by.  Sometimes a horn beeps and I wave hi.  They must really like to beep at me.

Also tonight we had green beans from the garden and chicken nuggets for dinner.  I dipped mine in ketchup and Mummy had a sauce, too.  I swirled one of my nuggets in her sauce and my mouth started on fire!

It was so hot!  I tried to wipe it out with my hand, but Mummy shouted, "NO!" and she wiped the rest of the sauce off my hands, so I didn't put more in my mouth.  

I drank some juice cuz Mummy said.  It felt a little better, but not really.  Then I took a bite of green bean and it felt a little better, but not really.

She told me to each a couple more bites of chicken with ketchup, and I would be okay.

I pointed to the red stuff on her plate, and she said, "That's hot sauce."

"That's hot sauce," I said, once I could talk again.

"That's hot sauce." I said again.

Cuz I don't want to dip my chicken in that ever again.

Marshmallow in the Tomato Patch

It's pretty funny how the definition of a "lovely day" changes as winter slithers in.  

The days that used to be too wet, too cold and too gray to throw rocks are now deemed "lovely."  If ice pellets aren't pelting our faces with 30 mph winds, it's a lovely day.

This week I realized that I hadn't checked on my plot in the community garden for a while (story of my summer).  The gardens at the campground took more of my attention than my little 12' x 24' plot just a block away.  I can't say it suffered, but it sure got out of control.  Sorry, garden neighbors!

So I pulled little Brady P. in his wagon to the community garden.  All bundled up, I set him down at the north end of the site -- something I dared not do at the beginning of the season, unless he was helping me pick rocks.

But as I looked at Diane's notoriously pristine plot next to mine, I noticed it had been pulled.  Not much remained except perhaps a bushel's worth of red, green and brown tomatoes that most likely fell from the vines before or during their removal.

Braeden noticed those tomatoes right away.

The frost had already hit them, so they had an extra fragility to their nature.  And as Braeden found out, they made a really cool sound when he squashed them with his boots.

I wished I had a video camera.

There was Brady P., puffy as a winter marshmallow, stomping the tomatoes and listening to the squirting, squishing sounds they made.  Then he looked over at me and let out this half-crazed cackle with one eye twitching and pointy teeth bared. 

What a sight!

Stomp, squish, squirt.  Stomp, squish, squirt.  Cackle!

Then he would pick up the green tomatoes which didn't melt instantly in his mittened hand and chucked them.  He followed the successful throws with the aforementioned cackle.  What a goon.

After enough of that, he wandered over to my plot -- a gnarly patch of hardened stems, weeds and an unfortunate cauliflower plant.

This cauliflower plant proved to be his nemesis, as he kept walking right into it and promptly tumbling over.  I couldn't figure out why he couldn't see it.  It was as tall as his waist and as sturdy as a small tree.

But time and time again, I watch him roll right over it, let out a disapproving squawk, and get back up.  I just laughed at my little marshmallow boy. 

Marshmallow boy

I am always grateful for time in the garden that isn't hastened by the whine of my small fry.  Luckily, that day he was in his ketchup-making glory.

Garden Hide-and-Seek

Grammy works in the gardens at the campground.  For first year gardens, they are producing quite nicely.  While she is busy watering, mulching and weeding, Brady P. and I go visit her.  And help if we can.

Braeden likes to help by throwing his ball into the plants.  He throws it right into the broccoli patch.  He chucks it right through the rows of corn.  He sinks it deep into the kale plants.

And then he has to find it.

When his ball is too hidden for him to find, he will interrupt our chores by pressing his palms together, moving them up and down and grunting "uh, uh."  His sign for "help."

"I will help you Braeden," I volunteer, so Grammy can keep moving along.  "You threw the ball in the broccoli!" I tell him.  "Let's find it."

He stands next to me as I pull the leaves back and look under the plants.  "Baa-aall, where aaaare you?" I sing as I duck under the foliage.

I want Braeden to know we are looking through the broccoli.  And when he throws it in the corn, I want him to know it's in the corn.  No matter which vegetable the ball lands in, Grammy and I tell him the name of it.  The chances of him memorizing all the plants by fall is minimal, but I think it's a great opportunity for him to learn where his food comes from.

Brady P. takes his ball throwing seriously

Soon enough we find his ball.  "Here it is, Brady P!" I shout to him.  "Now stay on the path."  

The path.

The only way we can allow him to stay in the garden at all is because he learned what the path is.  Now it took laps of Grammy and me marching through the garden with him on our heels to learn what the path was.  "Marching on the path," we sing to whatever nursery rhyme was stuck in our heads that day.

And he walks right behind us on the dirt path.  That way, when he goes to find his ball in the corn, we can yell, "Stay on the path!" and he looks down, and finds a path to the corn.  It's fun to make a game out of it.  Sometimes we zigzag through like a maze, and I ask him where he thinks the path goes from a certain spot.  He can usually find one.

Grammy reminding him where the path is

He certainly likes the challenge of learning, and he loves that ball.  Uh oh, where did it go this time?