Freeze-Frame: The Solving of the Great Secret Tractor Mystery

For several weeks now, at odd times and for mysterious reasons all his own, Tadhg has stopped whatever he's doing, tensed into a posture of great anticipation, looked at me intently, and said in hushed tones, "Secret tractor!"

That's it.

"Secret tractor!"

Rundy and I have puzzled over this with great bemusement. Rundy's bet was on the riding mower under a tarp out by the shed, but I never saw Tadhg looking or pointing that way when he made his mysteriously muted proclamations. My money was on sudden recollections of the wonders of his birthday presents and the intense hope that a secret tractor was still waiting for him somewhere, all wrapped up.

But this morning, all was revealed.

Tadhg was playing happily in the living room soon after waking up.  I was holding Pippin.

All of a sudden, the glint in the eyes, the tensed posture, the hushed tones: "Secret tractor!"

Then it dawned on me.

The water pump had just started up in the basement, sounding eerily like a tractor.

A secret tractor.

Duet, Or, Surely This Is What Mozart's Home Looked Like

Mr. Pip, El Maestro

March Grab-Bag

Sometimes the cold outside is just too cold for playing in, and that's when you pull out the big guns. 

(Yep. I know water beads are hazardous if swallowed. Yep. I'm very careful with them.)

Finally got the portraits of Tadhg and Pippin framed and on the walls. My Renaissance Man husband surprised me with them for Christmas, sneakily drawing them when I was out of the house with the boys.

Before he got his "real" guitar for his birthday, this was his 'tar of choice most days. (Depending on the situation he's also been known to strum on a level, his toothbrush, a fork, and his Daddy's hand, so it's all dependent on what's nearby.)

A grainy throwback photo to when a very pleased Pippin discovered how to stand up in his crib. Tadhg is my morning snuggle-man, and Pip is my morning sunshine. Nearly every morning I know that Pip is awake by his happy jabbers, and he greets me with the best beaming face when I come in to fetch him.

This photo doesn't capture it at all (I'd need to use something other than a measly phone camera to attempt that), but our bedroom gets the best light. With prisms in the window, and growing things, and bright colors, it's an extra pleasant spot. 

Once in a while it's quiet.

Being a silent observer to this interaction tugged my heartstrings. (My heartstrings are starting to stretch out from all the tugging these days.)

Cardboard box tent.

Joy-Joy is a friend from church. They're a cute little pair.

Abby got pictures of Tadhg with their new puppies (10! 10!!!!!), but my phone was in the other room. I snatched this photo of Pippin and Puppy later.

Tadhg likes to hide these days by stuffing his head somewhere where he can't see me, and--by obvious extension--I can't see him (see photo below). 

"Tadhg, where are you??? Are you out feeding the chickens?"

"No," he says.

"Are you using the bathroom?"

"No."

"Are you getting firewood?"

"No."

It's a rousing game.

Preserving Pip's trademark left-armed lunge for posterity. Lousy footage, but functional.

Tadhg spends a considerable amount of time singing and playing 'tar these days. He knows that songbooks are different than normal books and is very studious about using them appropriately. I found him like this a week or so ago. I include the video below the photo for one small moment near the end. It's not the singing, it's not the imperious rudeness to his little brother. Nope. It's the way he licks his finger to turn the page.

Spring-ing

Despite glass in desperate need of washing...

...this window makes me happy.

The boys and I went on a walk on one of the most recent balmy days. Tadhg chattered like a magpie. I answered questions. We talked about the ethics of littering (trash not in a garbage can disturbed him). 

He played in water in the ditches. (What else are ditches for, if not for little boys to play in?)

And we found a wood frog just waking up for the spring. Tadhg had been carrying a baby pinecone in his chubby little fist. When we found the frog, he told me he wanted to give it his pinecone to eat. And so we did. Not sure if the frog found it as appetizing as kindhearted Tadhg was certain it would, but it's the thought that counts.