Scenes from a Thursday in August

Hunter hasn't been feeling well for a few days. We've all gone through this round of crud, but it's been relatively easy on the rest of us. Hunter, on the other hand, hasn't been feeling so hot. And his brother's been running around the house pointing at his face and yelping "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGIES!" as if a Chernobyl-like incident has just occurred on his brother's upper lip. It can get to a kid.

So today he's feeling better, and I woke up determined to get out of the house. Keeping these two inside for a few days on account of a cold is no fun. No fun at all. We were all walking around, I think, with a few extra facial tics on account of being tired of walls around our heads. And, frankly, a little sick of each other.

So we hit the lake, then had lunch with friends, then naps and, after waking, we headed to the nearby TC Shaved Ice, which is about five minutes from our house, has a drive-thru and serves, as Jerry put it when I told him, "stone-cold sugar." Then we sat in the front yard and ate to our hearts content. Hunter ended up wearing half and eating half and is still stained a bright shade of red. But he sure enjoyed it, as he slurped happily through it for 20 or 30 minutes, stopping only occasionally to murmur "mine" and "yummmmmmeeeeee."

Here are some pics of our day.

After tiring themselves out at the playground, the boys sit on the bottom of a hill near the lake's edge and watch some folks fish while snacking. There were THOUSANDS of dragon- and damselflies at the lake today. I was really kind of amazed that Wilder, who can be a bit neurotic about bugs sometimes, hardly even seemed to notice. Hunter just screamed "cocka!" at them, believing they were tiny birds. I do this bird call every time we see a bird come close -- "caw-CAW!!" -- that Hunter has just malappropriated as "cocka." The nannies at the park seem amused that my kids keeps uttering "shit" in Spanish.

A self-portrait of H and I. It was a hot day!

Early in the shaved ice experience, and clearly not knowing where styrofoam ended and the sugary goodness began. By the time he finished, those shorts were pretty much ENTIRELY pink, including the booty.

Wilder keeps a paranoid eye on some birds, whom he was convinced were going to try to make off with him. Like I said, a little neurotic sometimes.

A happier demeanor after having the physics of the impossibility of bird-on-human kidnapping to him.