After Gilbert's speech therapist, Dad came over to pick up Justin to go to Malone to buy a rototiller to attach to a tractor. (That is a lot of "to"s.) We all had to go out to see Grandpa and his truck and listen to Dad and Justin argue about who was actually going to be allowed to pay for the rototiller. And then we stood there waving them off, feeling a bit like a 1950's family. This was when, unlike that 1950's housewife (who was organized!) I realized that the door to the house was shut. And locked. After toying with the idea of chasing Dad's slow behemoth of a truck with three kids, I spent the next 20 minutes trying to break in our house. Fortunately, Orianna knows how to unlock the door, so once I managed to pry a window open with the help of a grill brush, I just boosted her in. Well, Lily too. She never misses an opportunity to climb through the window. Orianna and Lily always think it is a hoot when we get locked out. Probably because they get to climb in windows. Which happens more than it should. I should get one of those fake turtles to put a key in. Otherwise, they might become addicted to window entry and spend their formative years in juvi hall for breaking and entering. The problem with fake turtles (besides the obvious kitcshyness of them) is that I would lay asleep at night wondering if someone was about to steal our key and open the door. Or if they did just a few minutes ago and that squeak was not just the house settling (I think this means "go to sleep and leave me alone, honey"), but actually the footfall of a psychopathic, door-opening murderer. I don't think my imagination could bear the turtle.
Here are some pictures of my walk this morning. Such a scrumptious morning!
I just noticed the telephone pole making a cross here....
We are heading to Clover and Evan's for the weekend, so we need to get packing!