8 Minutes and a Marshmallow

A couple of the young women in our ward replicated the Marshmallow Experiment for their psychology class (they had the kids wait 8 minutes instead of 15. Eight tortuous minutes). They filmed the kids involved, including Talmage.

Here it is on Youtube.

After Clara had eaten her fill of dirt and gagged on various pieces of nature, she was bundled off for a nap, and then the real work began:

Digging for last year's Matchbox cars.

That's right. Throw your back into it:

Over the past two days Talmage has been excavating the dirt pile from the moat with some success. Today a couple cars and one white monster truck that he was specifically looking for (how did he remember it from last summer???) were brought back to the fold.

So Durn Cute

Baby Steps

That table is painted green special for St. Patrick's Day.

Sleeping on top of the heat vent

Why she doesn't just put on clothing to stay warm is a mystery to her mother.

Catfish 2 and 3

Tal and Syd had their last day of swimming lessons. As per tradition, they got to go down the water slide and jump off the diving board...with life jackets. Sydney, after the water slide:


Last time Talmage tried the diving board he was a little tentative. Big improvement this time:



He jumped twice more, belly-flopping each time. He hefted himself out of the pool each time, with red welts on his stomach, crying, but wanting to jump again. Weird.

The Parade Must Go On

On rainy Saturday, T's preschool participated in a St. Patrick's Day Parade. The day before T&S decorated their hotwheels. We even bought a shiny green balloon guaranteed to last a week. Except Sydney was holding the balloon in the van on the way to the parade and took off the ribbon so the helium leaked out. T dragged the limpy balloon behind him anyway. It didn't take long for the crepe paper streamers to look equally sodden so the look sort of meshed.

Here the kids are really rioting it up under the tent while we waited for the parade to start.


Soon, the police motorcade passed by and the parade officially began.



But not before Sydney had complained that she was dying of hunger. I mooched a granola bar off of a more prepared friend and then waited for the candy to supplement. Hillsboro parades might be one long walking commercial rather than beauty queens on crepe-papered-floats, but they sure know how to throw out candy. Kids all along the route come prepared with bags that would make Halloween jealous.

Much better.

Talmage rode his hotwheel almost the whole way: loops, backwards, bursts of speed. He looked like he was having a great time. Finally, just towards the end he abruptly stood up and declared, "I'm done." He pushed Syd in the stroller the final stretch.

I asked the preschool director (over there on the far right) how many referrals they got from the parade initiative. She said not that many. It was fun for us, though. Good exercise, too!

Update

Briton is surely recovering from his long illness. But I knew he still had a ways to go because of this exchange this morning:

Briton: Did we have daylight savings?
Me: Yeah.
Briton: When did that happen!??!
Me: Yesterday.
Briton: Huh!

San Juan Islands

The stage was set: four days in the San Juans with the Wilde's and Taylor's. I'd never been before. Thanks for the invite!


Moral to the story: Everyone should visit the San Juan Islands at least once in their lives.
Corollary moral: Make that "as many times as possible."
Additional morals: People who live in glass houses should not rent them to families with small children (a urine-ified leather ottoman was one casualty).
Subset moral number four and etc: Pessimism wins! If you expect rain and misery, then clear skies and a slightly nippy wind makes your heart sing. (Also, avoid sharing your bedroom with your three children. It will make you say, "What the hell?!" over and over and over through the night.

Some images from the trip:

Getting some Vitamin D.

In her own world: an involved scenario is going on here.

Building a shelter

Below are pics from a hike Talmage and I went on with Karren and Sonya. Cameron and Chris watched Syd and Clara so we could do this. Which I mightily appreciate (Briton was home, working).

T, you sure have beautiful eyes, kiddo.

(Above pic taken by T)

Thneed, anyone?

Looks like a steep cliff, don't it?

Besides playing on the beach at American Camp (where a pig was shot back in the day by the British soldiers and thereby stirred up some trouble) and hiking, we played Dominion, ate good food, I got to know the Taylors better, went on a beautiful run, and met some cool people at church (one family was on a sailboat trip for the weekend).

Time to take the ferry home:




Perfect timing. It just started raining as we left. As if the Islands were sad to see us go. So poetic.

Hardy travelers, all.

Especially me. By "hardy" I mean, I hardly ate anything except sugar in order to stay awake at the wheel.




** Sorry no pics of the Taylors or of the rental, etc. If the other guys post their stuff, maybe I'll add a link here. The camera didn't get much airtime except on that one hike.

By Mrs. Barker. In the Kitchen. With Salmonella.

Before I try to catch up our recent goings on, I need to confess my grievous error.

Yesterday I planned to attend an early evening med-surg lecture. "Dinner's in the crock-pot," I sang out as I waltzed out the door. I was really proud that I'd seen to my house-wifely responsibilities such as preparing a delectable meal even though I wasn't going to be eating it with them. The house was in order (somewhat) and I was off.

Briton informed me when I got home that two bites into dinner he grew suspicious of the CHICKEN's texture. He checked the crockpot setting, which was where I'd originally set it: WARM. Not Low. Warm. And so it had been for the past four hours. The image of bajillions of salmonella buddies basking in the cozy crockpot and inviting all their friends to play, too --- it gives me the jimmies and it gives Briton food poisoning.

I had a pretty good dinner, though. It was catered by some deli. The lecture was about DVT's. So, if Briton ends up in the hospital over this, I'll know just what to do to keep him from getting blood clots. Now that's a really good wife.