What we did in Ohio

I should really title this post, "What we DIDN'T do in Ohio," because if there was something to be done, we did it. So, without further ado, here is a photographic compilation of our visit. 

Vincent's first hole-in-one

Daddy and baby relaxing

Dommie on a pony

Dommie pets his first boa

Dommie finds his family

Pioneer Camp

 ***Editor's Note*** This week we have a guest blogger, Miss Catherine Lorelle. She took time out of her busy schedule to write about her experiences at Pioneer Camp. I'm sure she would love to get feedback!  

This week I went to Pioneer Camp. Pioneers were people who went over the mountains and plains. They traveled for months and months. They were going to Oregon so they could have their own plot of land. They had to bring their mother's stove, the mother's trunk, food, quilts, water, guns and bows and arrows.

When they got to Oregon, before they built their house, they rested for a few days. On the third day they built their house and that night they had a party at their house to celebrate the end of the long journey and their new plot of land.

At Pioneer Camp we pretended to be pioneers. On the first day we talked about pioneers and how they would travel and what they had to bring. Then we made trunks out of paper. We cut out pieces of paper from magazines to fill our trunks. In my trunk I put diamonds, an ax, food, books, a teapot and water.

Then we went on a walk to go to our new homestead. We played lots of fun games. We made candles out of beeswax, we made bandanas, and we planted corn, squash and sunflowers for our gardens. Unfortunately, the squirrels ate our plants that night.

On the final day, we had an ice-cream social and we played pioneer games like bowling, stick-and-hoop and corn toss. Like the real pioneers, we were given deeds to land. My teacher said that I could pick my land and I picked the land where there is a beautiful garden.

A knight retires

After several weeks of Dominic proclaiming "Me knight!" whenever anyone asked his name and parading around in his armor and boots carrying his shield and sword at all times, one morning he woke up and stumbled out to the living room, where I greeted him with the customary, "How's my little knight?" To which he indignantly replied, "Me no knight! Me firefighter!" And that was that.

So what's a mother to do (besides work on his personal pronoun usage)? Well, bake cookies for the firefighters, of course, and hope that the bribe would result in letting us climb aboard the fire engine! Indeed, my plan worked, so we found ourselves at the fire station one sunny morning gaping at the huge firetrucks, where Dominic promptly turned to me and cried out, "Mommy, hold me." Him no more brave firefighter, I guess. Catherine and Vincent both got to sit in the driver's seat and wear their huge helmets. Catherine, who heretofore has shown interest in nothing with wheels (with the exception of a horse-drawn carriage carrying a princess) surprised me by asking the firefighters, "How does the firetruck go so fast if it's so big?" The answer is: A big engine.

A couple of firefighter-themed stories I found pretty amusing:

We were playing outside a couple nights ago, examining our less-than-bountiful garden (darn you, rabbits!!!) and Dominic was desperate that I should turn on the hose (ours is a firefighter hose, of course). But, been there, done that, cleaned up that mess, and I didn't feel like getting soaked. After about ten minutes of perpetual whining, he suddenly quieted, then screamed out, "Hey, Mommy, you on fire! Me need hose to put fire out!" I'm proud to say I did not fall for that.

The second story took place at Los Tres, a Mexican restaurant. Mid-dinner, Dommie knocked off the plastic covering for the thermostat. It clattered to the ground and I jokingly said, "Oooh, the firefighters are going to come get you can put you in jail!" Cue wailing and sobbing. I took him outside to calm him down, and his gulps had finally turned into whimpers when we went back inside. A stranger was standing at our table talking to Roger and the kids, and when we approached he smiled and said, "I couldn't help but overhearing your conversation. I'm a firefighter." I thought Dommie was going to have a coronary then and there.

You can't keep a good man down

Most people, after undergoing arm surgery that involves having a screw drilled into your bone, would take a few days off. One of those people would not be Roger. The day after surgery, we took a family field trip to the new Nature Research Center in downtown Raleigh. That weekend he did some serious batting practice with the boys. And, most importantly, he waxed the van. The kids and I tried telling him to lie down and rest (and to not worry about waxing the van!), but he wouldn't listen. Since then we've taken a lot of family outings. We've been to Harris Lake, the airport observation deck, lots of parks, and on Memorial Day we drove down to Scotland Neck to the Sylvan Heights Waterfowl Center (I love that place). As we were leaving I held Dommie's hand as we walked past the duck pond and told him to say "Bye-bye, birdies." He not-so-quietly corrected me, "No! Not birdies. Bye-bye duckies." I stand corrected. Anyway, below is a compilation of our family's activities during Roger's "recuperation" period: