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Hose heads

A quick post, as the attempts my offspring are making to kill each other upstairs escalate.

The girls helped me clean off the porch on a fine summer weekend day. (I can't quite remember which one - they're all blurring together)

Tell me, which do you think got clean?
a) The porch
b) The girls
c) Claire's bike
d) None of the above, but they all got soaking wet

I let them have their way with the hose. That's one of those things that all kids (and grownup kids - Mr. Unreserved did not pass by unscathed) should get to do once in a while.

I love our porch; these pictures only show a portion of it. It was a major attractive point to this house. (ignoring the fact that there's a hole in the roof, the ceiling is peeling, the posts have rotten trim, the floor is cracked, and the brick work needs repointing) It's huge, and is now sporting an antique wicker porch swing (courtesy of Craigslist) in addition to the collection of wicker I inherited from Mom. It's the best seat in the house.

Finally, this is what happens when you send Anna upstairs to get ready for bed by herself. She comes down wearing a t-shirt, pants, a belt around her neck, a bathrobe (nevermind that's it's 80deg in the living room) and every barrette she owns in her hair.

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!

About me

  • I'm Sarah
  • From Pittsburgh, United States
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