Goin' Fishin'

Frankly, I have had some concerns about being the mother of three boys. Perhaps not all boys are challenging mischief-makers, but on occasion --mine have been.

They wrestle with Dad. They like to throw things. They "forget" parental instructions quickly.
They think camping is fun --anytime. They don't mind getting very sweaty. Boys.

Last weekend they were up well before the sun. They were off for a day of ice-fishing (all except the baby).

Don't you wish you were out there too?
Is this a true sport I wonder? I lack the vision for it's entertainment value, but my boys were giddy with anticipation. When at 6am Br. Marshall's knock was heard at the door, Sam made an amazingly graceful leap (much like an antelope or deer) from the entry to the porch --all the while giggling delightedly. They had a splendid time, and thankfully for me, caught nothing.

Fisherman Sam

Dr. Marshall with one of his awesome "toys"

Today I went fishing.

You see, I realized --too late-- that the reason Schuyler was so contented in the laundry room was because he'd made some mischief. In an effort to help him gain identity and industry, I have been finding ways for him to contribute to household chores. I don't know that it's a really super idea, but since I was a early childhood education major --I keep trying to be true to Jean Piaget and John Bowlby. When doing laundry I pull the stool up to the washer and let him pour in the soap. I hand him clothes and he puts them in for me. Then he makes a big mess as he fills his soapy lid to the brim and dumps some in the washer and most down his front.

We'd just started a load to wash. I emptied the dryer and took the armful into my room to sort. When I returned he'd climbed in the dryer.

Industry vs. Inferiority
Ahh --how cute. I laughed and smiled at him and told him how smart he was, and then noticed he'd removed the lint catcher. I looked for it and then glanced inside the slot where it should've been. Whoops, silly boy --he'd gathered the lint off of the screen thing and pushed it all back down in the slot. I tried to reach it with a pencil, and then saw something shiny further down. Oh no! He'd pushed three toothbrushes down there as well. I found a wire hanger and tried to fashion a hook. I spent an amazing amount of time trying to finagle the toothbrushes out with one hand, while shining a flashlight with the other. Ever anxious to offer his services, S. was determined to hold the light, and the whole episode ended with him in angry tears.


Mischievous Max

Much later, after all the boys were down, Star's steady hand was able to retrieve the last toothbrush. And I was able to finally dry two soggy loads.

some of the loot

It takes real patience to be a fisherman.