Skip's friend Cole is over for a sleepover. Even though they were up really late and PROMISED to sleep in, they were up early, loitering around the PS2, as if maybe by their sheer proximity, they might become a part of the electronic game before breakfast.
Hah. As if!
So now they've had breakfast, and they've been distracted by Nate's gigantic Skyrail Suspension building toy thingy that Ken brought home from work.Alas , Bossy Cole wasn't even letting Nate barely touch his own toy, so Ken had to do a little gentle intervening (because if I got in there, I would've been knocking heads), and now Nate is fully invested.
Ahem. I just sent the big boys upstairs to the 2 showers. They were looking a little greasy. Skip's hair was showing NO signs that he'd actually used shampoo yesterday, and Cole is in that phase of life where he could throw off little droplets of oil just by turning his head quickly.
Of course, I don't want them using ALL the hot water, so I've turned on the dishwasher AND the washing machine (with a load of whites), to keep things interesting in the shower stalls.
Nate's triops?
Good golly, I think it was the VERY NEXT DAY after he'd set up his little puddle-tank that there were these little teeny-tiny white specks zipping around in it. Even with a magnifying glass, it was hard to tell what exactly was in the water.
They're aliiiiiiive!
I wondered how long it would be before we could see anything bigger than a dozen wee white specks.
But last night? My word! There's a critter in that puddle that is as big as my little finger nail! And it's brown! And it has THREE EYES. We'll call that guy Goliath. I hope he doesn't eat his buddies. I hear that triops can be cannibalistic.
No photos yet, though.
Cole has a movie theater gift certificate burning a hole in his pocket, so once Skip gets out of the shower (Cole's already been in and out. He's speedy, though I'm not gonna posit as to his state of cleanliness), I'll be taking the big guys down to the theater, and the wee ones to have lunch with Daddy at New Hip Company.
I suppose that means I should get out of my jammies.
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