Painting amidst scampering burrow rats

Our Shakespeare and Chemistry Studies have been postponed in favor of gardening, VBS, Robotics Camp, Forensics Camp and house painting.  I depended on Sidney to help with ceiling painting.  Actually, it was more like he painted the ceilings, and I helped him.

He reinstalled the lighting with a bit of arm muscle from his dad.  I think Sidney took a 120 volt hit only once.


There is something about routine interruptions, housing projects and moving furniture that inspires my kids to new play.

Prairie, the burrow rat, flees for her life.


Below, Prairie, the burrow rat walks sedately.

“Burrow rats like to snooze or impress the ladies or go for a little walk,” she says.


Rachel, the cheerful, happy-go-lucky burrow rat, is unaware of the danger lurking just behind her . . . . . .


Lincoln, the slit-eyed, leering burrow rat — creepy.

I felt happy and nostalgic with my burrow rats romping at my feet, getting in my way and their happy noises intruding into my consciousness.  At ages 9, 11, 13, and 16, those kind of days are mostly behind me.  It was a sweet reminder of other days to have the younger three kids romping about like preschoolers.

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