Rather Than Feel Monday-Ish, I Chose To Feel Sunday-Ish. They Had Saturday-Ish

Yesterday, I had an afternoon barbecue to beat the rain (success) and to unite Ubuntu Academy and Project Citizen: Flying Lessons From the Prose teacher-leaders. I knew, too, that with Dave and Kris Wooley comes the Ish, who immediately ran to Chitunga's room to get the electric nerf gun. He also masterminded a way to find the Risk army men in a baggie at the bottom of a cabinet. There was some bartering at the end of the day about what might be traded to keep army men in exchange for a smooth departure. What a fabulous post-toddler, almost-through-with-pre-school kid he is.

My favorite part of the day was I found him on the front porch with the Nerf gun (that needed batteries and didn't work) living in his imagination and singing a Chitunga, Chitunga, Chitunga song in a pair of what I think were Lighting McQueen socks.

Last night, Kris sent me the photo to the right with the following message,

More blogging material?
We found our missing water bottles in the freezer, filled with
- water
- cut up pieces of pink playdoh
- cheese
- and a toy's booted leg
😳

It appears the Ish is on to something, and the $6 smoothies of 16 Handles has nothing on him (and they thought they were hip with their organic tofu metabolic light yoga raspberry flavor).

I realized when the entire squad left yesterday that I didn't snap any photos, so was glad I remembered Kris sent the play-doh boot-sicle. Snap! If he waited a day, he would have been able to add watermelon (and a Risk soldier) to the concoction.

DON'T GROW ANY OLDER, ISH! STAY THIS AGE FOREVER!