Yesterday, I borrowed a shovel from my neighbor, and tackled the flowerbed next to my porch. The previous occupant had planted quite an array of flowers, but after a few years of vacancy, the plot was quite overgrown. With the "help" of my sons, I managed to thin it out to a nice balanced look. Seeing as how I haven't really done anything close to gardening since I was in Jr Hi, I was quite proud of my accomplishment.
Apparently so were my boys. Andrew had happily sampled the dirt I was digging up (despite my efforts at containment, and Timothy loved helping me replant the items I was shifting around. By the end, T and I were dusty, but Andrew was downright filthy. He was covered in dirt from his mouth to his toes. So upstairs we went for a bath. I put him down in the bathroom, then turned to grab the camera from the next room. I thought I'd get a picture before I bathed him so that I could show John.
I was gone for less than 30 seconds, maybe 15. I came back to this:
He was obviously very proud of himself. His brother meanwhile, instead of helping me keep his brother out of trouble, was just stopped from joining him by my return to the bathroom. Nope, never a dull moment here!