I think I've mentioned before that we have a monster hill in our backyard. Part of our yard is mostly flat (thanks to bulldozers, no doubt), but the back left of our third-acre lot slopes upward at a 30-degree rise to a little copse we affectionately refer to as The Poo Woods. (The back right of our lot overlooks a small valley; in winter and from certain places on the hill year-round, we can actually see Ethan's future elementary school that's more than a mile away.) The Poo Woods is home to the Whoville Tree, a stately oak that in its winter nakedness reveals a crooked, skinny branch reaching skyward at the very tip top.
Aside from adding a bucolic element to our otherwise modest nook of the neighborhood, the hill has proved useful of late. I've even forgiven it for attempting assassination the time I tried to cut it. (Noah was luckily weed whacking nearby and rescued me from tumbling down the hill, mower and all.)
So we've got The Poo Woods, home to The Whoville Tree, but I think I've settled on a name for the hill, and it isn't even Lucifer's Point, which was the front runner before today. It shall now be known as Hamster Wheel Hill.
See, you throw a toddler and a three-month-old puppy out back together, and they will run that thing like a conveyor belt for seemingly limitless amounts of time. "Me high up!" Ethan shouts from his lofty perch. "Foll-o me, Bonnie!" he commands his unwilling minion. (Although I think she'd be more willing if he didn't try to kill her thrice daily before breakfast. Same goes for me, actually.) After a few rounds they're both exhausted, and all I had to do was sit on the deck and watch, Cody relaxing by my side.
There is a God, and he has a plan for us after all.
photo. foto. nice photo of bonnie and ethan is all I've asked you for....
For best results, I have to agree that puppies and little boys have to be "run". How nice for you to be able to take care of business in your own backyard! (Yes, a photo would be nice.)
I'm with Lisa, replace paragraph 1 with a photo and I'll be back to get your shit down ;-)
I like to call that kind of running "nap insurance." I'll pay all KINDS of premiums for that.
Nice. Our three year old does the same thing while yelling, "I'm king of the mountain!" I get to be the queen. :)
On another note, I saw a kids shirt at Walgreens that declared "I'd Rather Be Naked", and I thought instantly of your Ethan, even though I've never met him. :)
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