the farm

Our city Parks and Recreation department maintains a small farm in one of the city parks. It was an actual farm in 1920, and the buildings have been restored. There are a couple of cows, some sheep, a few ponies, chickens, and most impressively, in Tim's mind, a water pump. While my in-laws were here, I booked a slot for Tim in the Lil' Dumplin' group, which met on three Monday's in a row from 11:15-12:15. Spaced over those three days, they got to feed the hens, milk the cow, go for a hay ride pulled by a tractor, and ride a pony. Jenny and Neville took him and they had a sack lunch on the grounds at the end of each session.

tractor in the sun

he was very excited about the pony ride and kept asking for his helmet which was a little late getting to him

helmeted at last


in the chicken yard


the water pump

Gramps and Gee Gee bought Tim (and Luke in another few months) a trampoline. I worked for a few hours last night putting it together, but never managed to get it right. It took longer to get it out of the box and packaging than to assemble it. Paul looked at it this morning and figured out the issue within minutes. I love being married to a problem solver. Our neighbor Emily and her three-year-old daughter Addie were around for the grand opening. I predict many hours of jumping for the two of them.

baby birds and sexist remarks

baby birds

Some finches built a nest in one of our hanging baskets on the front porch. Last week, the eggs hatched two bald and blind baby birds. They are now furry and seem to be thriving even though the few times I've peeked at them they've been sleeping. Tim had his first look at them yesterday. His reaction was rather bland, but he's been talking about it ever since. He asks to look at them constantly, and I finally told him that they were sleeping and needed to be left alone. Showing them to him involves getting up on a chair and lifting him up, not something I can do very many times without distressing the mother bird.



sexist remarks
Timothy has developed some interesting ideas about the roles that Paul and I play. Last Friday, I backed our car into my mother's car, which was parked in the driveway behind me (silly mistake). I wanted Tim to understand why I was sad, so I showed him the scratches on the bumper. I explained what I'd done and that the car had an owie now. His immediate response was: 'Daddy fix it.'

Then, when we were camping over the weekend, he pulled out another sexist comment. We were packing up camp and loading it into the car. Tim wanted Paul to play with him. Paul explained that he was busy packing up and Tim replied: 'Momma pack up.'

BIRD UPDATE: 1 AUGUST 2010
There is only one bird in the nest. I think now that the second egg never hatched. It was hard to tell because the birds and the nest are the same color and baby birds tend to sleep on top of each other. Now that it's grown into something that actually looks like a bird, it's clear that there is only one. Tim hasn't seen the parents feeding the bird yet. He doesn't know what to look for and he doesn't have the patience to sit on the couch and watch. I think it will be ready to fly by the end of the week based on its growth so far.

wan and wanda

Timothy struggles with making the soft 'g' sound like in Gran and Grand-da, so he calls Jenny and Neville Wan and Wanda. He loves having them here and is basking in all the love and attention.

world cup fever

While everyone else is complaining about the noise, we're celebrating the arrival of our very own vuvuzela. Paul's parents are here from Cape Town for a month and brought this for Timothy. It's difficult to make a noise with it. Paul's managed to master it, something the whole neighborhood must know by now. Jenny, my mother-in-law, told us that the tourists were boarding airplanes with five or six of these to give as gifts back home, all over the world. And remember, after South Africans, Americans have purchased the most World Cup tickets. Methinks the vuvuzela is here to stay.