So, the weather is nice and...holy crap, it's June!...so I am in full garden mode. It's pretty much entirely impossible to get any gardening done with a small person under foot. There are the really cool looking snippers, that look so appealing to cut off little fingers. Then there are spades and shovels and other sharp garden digging tools that are perfect for causing injury. And that whole, not paying attention to your toddler attempting to dash into the road to get a better look at a beepbeep... yeah, well. Gardening + toddler=No Go.
So, I've been working on my garden when Billy is sleeping. It's slow going, especially since the weeds have been growing since February. I think the new house is looking pretty sharp. I turned the grass-filled fire pit into a begonia haven. And I ripped out undergrowth to have an impatiens bed.
But those pesky weeds. Constant maintenance. What boy wouldn't want to dig in the dirt and kill plants? Whoa. We have a winner. I rip, he tosses. Then he rips out random non-flowering whatevers, even things that aren't weeds and I let him go to town. He's occupied. He's happy. I get to garden without major mishap. Win win.
Until he throws dirt in my underpants and Daddy laughs. It's not that I was sporting plumber's crack, but bent over the weeds there was enough of a gap for him to chuck a handful of soil into my pants, which quickly ended up in places I had hoped would never have garden soil associated with them. And, of course, since Daddy laughed, Billy took it as "do that again, but with more vigor this time." So, he threw dirt on my seven times. He got warned. He got 3 time outs. Then he got a 5 minute time out in hiss room- the first time ever to be sent to his room. And he STILL did it.
Here I find the perfect blend of boy fun and Mommy fun and Daddy goes and gives him a rotten idea. I think Daddy needs a time out. And I think I need new underpants...