For the rest of the afternoon, they get to decide what they want to do.
Dangerous ground, I know.
It took exactly 2 minutes for my boys to ask for their pocket knives. They decided to whittle. What, I'm not sure. There was more water coming off of their sticks then wood. I don't know if they totally understand the concept of whittling, but it usually keeps them busy for awhile.
And finally, I would be able to get some things done in the house! I started clicking off items on my mental list. This would be a very productive afternoon!
Then I noticed that the boys decided to start their projects on the back porch.
That I had just cleaned off.
After I chased them off of the porch, they planted themselves on a steep bank. On their knees.
My son, Matthew, gave himself a faux hawk today. He's also wearing my garden clogs. He's a strange boy, but we like him.
Tanner is wearing his good sneakers because he didn't want to get his barn boots dirty. Go figure.
Somebody needs to whittle up a patch for those jeans.
Here's the thing about whittling. Young boys with knives do not give mom's peace of mind. It does not buy us any quiet time, because we can't afford to take our eyes off of the knives.
I wasn't the only one that was worried.
"Boys, please don't cut off your fingers! I'm going to need something to lick during dinner!"