Mud-Pox

Kyle came down with a happy case of the mud-pox.

The boys have been loving the warm winter we're having--eating pizza and cookies in a fort, sometimes coat-less.

Gravel Goats

So we are apparently stockpiling gravel.

The Middles

Deacon & Kyle play, play, play together so well (most of the time).  Kyle loves to mimic Deacon's antics--and Deacon is a tough, imaginative little guy so that's great!  Deacon is also great at protecting his little brother, and including him, and helping him succeed--as in getting the bike set up for a ride, or finding a truck, or making sure Kyle has a shovel too.

However, Kyle, is not appreciative of the safe-keeping factor and when I hear a piercing wail of discontent, most usually it's following an attempt at redirection on Deacon's part: "Mom, Kyle was  . . ." is how almost every explanation of Deacon's starts.  And 9 times out of 10, I reply, "Good job protecting your brother!"  Sometimes I say, "Let go of his arm.  He's not a wagon".  Okay, a lot of the time I say that.
But he [Deacon] always means well.  

Elmo takes a walk

Tie a pair of baby shoes on Elmo and Kyle is ready to show him a good time!  First Kyle took him by the eyeballs for a little walk about.  Peter the cat came too.  Then I guess Elmo reminded Kyle this was supposed to a good time, so they wended their way betwix the yard clutter* to hit up the merry-go-round.  Peter sunbathed.  Kyle took Elmo for a walk to the gravel pile, for a fake ride on the snow mobiles, for a climb up a beam (like the cat).  And then later shared his pizza with his fire-engine-red pal.

*Papa Glen remarked yesterday that our home was beginning to have the "reservation chic" look.  Was it the prematurely falling maple tree leaves, the dying shrubs, the broken and strewn toys, the crisping grass, the pokeys, the tires stored in the back of the plow truck, the fact that we have a gravel pile . . . feel welcome to share how feel our home captures that reservation spirit!

Mary, your days are numbered . . .

A quick peek out to the east pasture and our backyard revealed our three happy cattle chomping away at grasses. A not so quick second peek registered that one of the threesome was actually in our backyard, and much less so in the east pasture. Freaking out I grabbed the phone to call Phil, and simultaneously ran to pound on the door to my dad's home. I got Phil's voicemail, but thankfully my dad's face, "Mary's out! Mary's out! Mary's out!" Dad met me in the backyard where I was erratically (wasting time) looking for the grain, not so ready to ford the pokies in my flip flops. I sort of tried to suggest to Dad that we should just corral Mary until Phil got home . . . thankfully Dad was not phased. And then, lickity-split, Dad got Mary back in the pasture. I was kind and left Phil a follow up voicemail.

Biking on the deck

So Bryce is pretty much the most helpfulest big brother ever. I pushed Kyle around, Phil pushed Kyle around, and Bryce thought it looked like so much fun that he offered to do the pushing . . . and didn't really want to stop for a photo op. Kyle loved it. Deacon rode a bit, then made a trap for the cats or a house for the cats . . . it's hard to tell sometimes.

Running in a rainstorm

 My lightening rods are the cutest.

4th of July Fireworks

Oh dear, it's nearly the end of the month and I never mentioned the 4th of July! We had a lovely, busy day beginning a whirlwind trip to Coeur d'Alene and Spokane for the parade and a visit with Opa, followed by quite the barbeque spread at Grandma Greta & Papa Glen's. By the time we made it home I was exhaustido. Beyond fatigued and thankfully Phil realized that trying to put anything more on my plate would result in a memorable day in all the wrong ways . . . so instead, he headed out to assemble the best home-grown fireworks this side of the reservation. He and Grandpa Dan got the boys so riled up with excitement that even the sparklers and pop-its were had them giddy. And for my part, I made one of those American flag cakes with the blueberries and strawberries, and then picked all the berries off my picky kids' plates . . .

Merry-Go-Round

 

Some kids have a lush green lawn to play on, or a swing set, or maybe a flat paved driveway. Other kids live just over the county line, and learn to become wary of pokey-weeds, or how to navigate a pasture, or the joys playing in a gravel mound. Our kids are the latter sort. And when you pair the lack of man-made loveliness in the backyard with a merry-go-round for sale on Craigslist . . . well, it's fate. Plus, it's the perfect solution to that dusty fire-pit that's no longer in use. Voila! Thank you, Kyle, for having a birthday coming up soon, and giving us an excuse to be the only people we know with playground equipment at home. Also, when you're married to Phil, these sorts of things aren't just flooshed on dirt. First the big boys helped him level the ground, form a form, pour concrete, and set the bolts.

Bugs Bunny

I hear banjos!  Just another McMurray evening.

Traps: retaining wall and bubbles

Deacon is keeping us so safe from all the bad guys and animals.  Here, he has hammered in a large metal stake (who doesn't have those lying around), and then attached an empty bubble container via the bubble wand.
Not pictured is an elaborate trap, staged with a bungee, nails, a Darth Vader mask, some sundries, and proctected by a McDonald's Happy Meals space hog toy.

Note, the scraggley bush that is not camoflaging the hideous retaining wall in any way.  "Grows thick foliage two feet a year" my eye!

Four Wheeler Intro: Slow

Kyle's taking it all in.  He was a little conflicted, me being the center of his world right now as I do the handing out of chocolate chips, etc, vs. a noisy, albeit slow-moving, four-wheeler.  Eventually he figured out how Phil made it go, and urged Phil to push it more--just like his brothers.  Bryce loves to go fast, but was willing to take a leisurely Sunday ride on a Saturday afternoon.  Deacon rushed madly from the house when he realized what was going on, and soon all three boys were riding at a put-put pace around the gravel.  Kyle liked it enough that as soon as it was turned off, he climbed back on to try for a solo go. 

Who needs toy cars?

Kyle loves opening and closing all the car doors.  

Pete the Panda inspires . . .

Thursday night we got to host Pete the Panda.  Pete's backpack contained not only his toothbrush and jammies, but also his own pillow and blanket.  Deacon was inspired.  At rest time, after Bryce lovingly laid Pete down on said pillow and covered him up with said blanket, Deacon was not to be outdone.  The kitchen played host to his crazy menagerie of stuffed pals: each tucked into his own cradle, and covered by his own tissue blanket. 
Later Phil helped Deacon fashion tissue clothes for the bears--Deacon wanted them to be "just like Pete!"
My favorite part was when Bryce somehow sweettalked me into a full screening of Kung Fu Panda, "'Cuz Pete's a panda, Mom!"

After rest time, Deacon took to the boys' new swing--hours of fun, and so far no concussions [fingers crossed].

Best Day Ever (over and over)

Somedays I'm pretty darn sure that whatever the boys are doing is the abosolute most fun they've ever had.  Last week Phil called me out to take a picture of Bryce working the trench roller over the gravel.  Can you see how concentrated Bryce is?  He loved it.  All the practice with his birthday car and truck from Nana Judy being put to real use.

Then, as if a full size trench roller isn't enough to make your cup run over, Grandpa Dan and Daddy set up a bow and arrow shoot (this was following a wildly popular Sunday afternoon bb-gun target session).  The target had all the pictures of woodland creatures, and each was thoroughly maimed.

And finally, yesterday afternoon, whilst Daddy was in Coeur d'Alene working on Opa's front entry ramp, Grandpa Dan constructed a waterballoon shootout for the bows and arrows. 

That's the little fun of being five and six. You get to have your best day ever all the time.

Snowmobile Ride

 

Bryce's best nap ever! Phil took him all over the back pasture, over bumps, and might have (but was unwilling to confirm) chased the horse.

Skateboarding Knight

 

Swords, Corn, & Pigskin

 

If you find that your piddley corn crop has produced perhaps the hefty harvest of 1 1/2 small ears of corn, and that further the weeds posing as a decorative border to your corn-patch are actually more prolific the patch itself . . . what say you? Do you decry the feeble maize? Do you curse the day that the weedwacker broke? Do you care lots? Not if your name is Phil McMurray. Post harvest (so about 20 seconds after realizing the extent of our corn-dreams), he called to the boys, "Get your swords! Attack the corn!" Which, turned out to be worth every minute of our half-hearted attempt at vegetable gardening. Next year we might just grow corn for the sole purpose of letting the boys have at it.

In other news, Bryce and Phil had their birthdays--more to come on that. But, after making short work of the raggedy corn, the football from Oma Pauline was up next. Phil's been working on their throwing and catching skills, they're getting better, and especially love wrestling it out of each other's arms. (I got some great photos of Phil playing too, but the background of the eyesore chicken coop is too much for me to take right now--so the Phil eye-candy can only be imagined.)

House

  Deacon was crushed to learn he couldn't sleep in here with his sleeping bag.

Shop Fort

 

In his spare time Phil is building a shop in our front pasture. In their spare time, our neighbor girls built a fort from the scraps, and Bryce and Deacon loved discovering the fort. Seconds later the rain came (this was following our run for ice cream, and I was sad that Bryce's hat was actually a reasonable accessory).