Rocky
There were days leading up to the holidays where Logan only wanted one thing for Christmas - a rock tumbler. We heard they were noisy. We heard young kids had a hard time waiting for the final product (it takes roughly a month). We knew he had his heart set on it. Santa brought him one.
Logan and Daddy worked at setting it up properly and getting it started. They marked off on the calender when to begin the next step of the process. They worked side by side drying off the stones and pouring in the next compound to help smooth/polish/shine.
He never once whined about the time. He'd simply stand in the garage and watch the tumbler tumble. He had a countdown of days to the next step and then finally to the final product.
And now that's it's done - jewlery made and stones collected in a jar - he's asking for the refill kit.
Here are some photos of the journey:
All this and a paycheck!
When Megan naps, it's special "Logan time." He likes to play board games. We play some that are geared to his age -- Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, the Junior Great States game, etc. And then we play some "big kid" games that he likes to try out. Checkers and so forth. So we're playing the game of LIFE -- well pretending to play. Logan cheats.
He lands on a square where he needs to get a new career. So he picks a new card. He went from being a computer consultant to an athlete. He points to the blonde gal standing next to the athlete on his card and says:
"Look! I got a new wife!"
Nice.
Of course later, when relating the story to Daddy, Logan would roll his eyes and say, "It was just pretend! Geesh!"
Improvise
At Thanksgiving, Logan's aunt had given him a snowman kit. Fake carrot, some buttons, a plastic scarf, corncob pipe and a felt hat. He remembered it when it snowed this weekend.
Yet the snow wasn't quite right for snowman building. It was too soft. Too flakey and not quite snowball rolling quality. So we improvised a little:
And the end result? Frosty the Snowdrift:
The rules
Last night I returned home just after Logan's bedtime routine had been completed. His door had been pulled closed, his lights were off, but he was yet to drift off to sleep. When I entered the room he sat up alert and wide-eyed smiling the biggest smile you'd ever hope to see.
We chatted a bit and before I could leave he informed me that it was bad that I didn't get home before bedtime.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"The rules in my house is that everyone needs to be under my roof before I go to bed," he informed me sternly.
I have to admit, I didn't do a very good job at hiding my laughter. I suppose I ought to tweak this statement slightly and remind him of it when he's 16.
