Backyard Brats
Did I say that?
I assure you I never call my kids brats to their faces.
Luke came to the back door with a bad grin, "Mom, come see. I buried Sean. Get the camera." So, looking for an excuse to prolong making a decision about dinner, I got the camera and walked out the back door just in time to see brat #1 coming down the driveway on his skateboard. With his drink. I guess he gets thirsty when he rides around town, and you never know when you might find yourself thirsty and several blocks from a convenience store.
I assure you I never call my kids brats to their faces.
Luke came to the back door with a bad grin, "Mom, come see. I buried Sean. Get the camera." So, looking for an excuse to prolong making a decision about dinner, I got the camera and walked out the back door just in time to see brat #1 coming down the driveway on his skateboard. With his drink. I guess he gets thirsty when he rides around town, and you never know when you might find yourself thirsty and several blocks from a convenience store.
Then I moved on to the sandbox where Sean could be seen - well, parts of Sean could be seen - crying pouts through chattering teeth. It's quite cold here despite the beautiful blue skies. Imagine how cold sand is a foot down. Brrrr. So I began snapping. A photojournalist has to separate herself from the reality of her subjects at times.
Anyway, all is well, Sean was uncovered and is now covering his brother.
Turnabout is fair play, even brats know that.
Comments
On the bright side, though, if one confesses by asking you to bring the camera, then you're a fine, fine parent with some fine, fine boys.
Oh, and what did they get for dinner?