Is Still Grinning – Oh the Boy!

For those who are the parent of a boy, you will understand and see the humor in this post. For those who do not parent a boy, you may read this post and wonder, "What in the world!?" Such is the life I lead as the mother to a six-year-old, 100% boy.
 I am one of those moms. I do not believe in plugging my kids into video games or the TV. I believe it stifles their imaginations, creativity and makes a child fat and lazy. My kids get to watch tv, but it is limited. They have the DSI, but the time they spend playing it is very minimal. I say this to preface the rest of this post. You see, while my daughter is creatively playing school in her room in the air conditioning because she does not like to sweat, my son is having wonderful adventures outside.
 Every boy needs to live in a place where he can live and breathe the open air, where he can explore God's creation, and pretend and plan his domination of the world. That being said if you leave anything of value or in working order within their domain you run the risk of it being disassembled and/or utilized for a different purpose. My son has found paint before and painted the side of a boat we didn't own, a fence and other items outside the house including the brick on the outside of the house. His inventions can be found hidden in the dog kennel that is no longer used – I am not nearly creative enough to come up with a name for them or their purpose. Let's just suffice it to say, Pearce has used them all at some point in time to save the universe.
The most recent utilization of an adult tool was the pick ax…yes, the pick ax. I had purchased some hydrangeas, and I had planted all but two of them. There was a problem with the hole for those two. There was a massive root running through the middle of it. Pearce and I tried using our shovels. Yes, he has his own shovel and tool set. Doesn't every man-child? We couldn't break them. Then we tried to set the root on fire. That didn't work. Then before Patrick left, he laid out a different kind of shovel and a pick ax. The pick ax was the ticket. It worked, and I was able to tear the stubborn root out of the hole. The hydrangeas were planted, and the tools were laid against the house. I will not step foot in Patrick's workshop for MANY reasons.
 This week in one of Pearce's many adventures that involved my good ice chest, a mop, and some other ordinary household items, he decides to use the pick ax. I'm just thankful he didn't pick his foot. That would have just been a bloody mess! I'm not sure the target at which he was aiming, but he managed to hit my new, thick, water hose. He came into the house and explained that the hose had a hole in it. Like it spontaneously ruptured. "Pearce, how did it happen?" "It just popped open."

Being the trained investigator that I am and knowing he is untrained in the skill of lying, I went outside to find the pick ax laying beside said hole in the hose. Sometimes, you just can't help but grin. It completely explained why when he came in he was quite wet. Apparently, the hose was ON when said hole popped into existence. I would have LOVED to seen the look on his face when it happened.Tonight was my first experience with my newly, altered water hose. I turned the water on, and the water started shooting up out in two different ways. Apparently, young master Pearce had hit that hose TWICE! I'm still grinning. I pick up the handle and squeeze – barely a stream of water flows from the head, and it eventually ceases flowing period because all the water is coming out in opposite directions from the pick ax holes.

So, what does a mom of a boy do? You go down to the hole, pick up the hose and start watering your plants two at a time instead of the one at a time the way I used to do using the handle. Yes, I'm still grinning.