No Naked People at the Peep Show, Eggs of Doom, and A Drop In

Today, Boy6 became Boy7.  Birthday—woot!  Here he is opening a present.  This year, he’s raking in the dough more than presents.  Lots and lots and lots of cash.  We’re hoping he’ll treat us to Li’s Buffet this weekend.

Money money money

(No, I don’t know why he turned out so pinky-red.  I had the white balance on automatic.)

Yesterday I made a point of calling him Six all day long so that today I could call him Seven.  He asked me, “How old are you, Mommy?”  “Thirty-nine.” And all day long, when I’ve called him Seven, he’s called me Ninety-three.  Thirty-nine, Ninety-three, eh, close enough.

Boy7’s birthday is near Easter.  One year, when Easter was especially early, I was trying to come up with goodie bags for his guests to take home with them.  Number one priority: they have to be cheap.  It just so happened that while I was trying to come up with cheap gift bag ideas, the boys had gone to an Easter Egg hunt and brought home 5000 Easter eggs.

And thus, the annual Birthday Egg Hunt was born.

So, today I gave the boys the job of filling 220 Easter eggs with candy for the Birthday party tomorrow.  They started out gamely enough, filling a few eggs and laughing and asking if they could sample the candy.  But then they started whining about how hard it was to close the eggs and they started poking at each other and wrestling and scattering eggs all around the room.  I showed no mercy.  “Boys!  You will fill these eggs.  You’ll just have to figure out how to close those eggs.  The more you do it, the easier it will become.  No excuses!  If you don’t fill the eggs, you don’t have a hunt.  This is your responsibility.  Get cracking!”

I’m pretty sure all they heard was “Wah wah wah eggs, wah wah wah eggs, wah wah wah eat the candy out of the eggs.”

Three hours, more wrestling, and banishment to separate rooms later, all the eggs were filled and the boys were sent to clean out the attic, where they’d tossed their Iron Man toys all around.  “If you don’t clean up those Iron Man toys, your friends are going to get all the little pieces lost at the party tomorrow.  This is your responsibility.”  “Wah wah wah wah, spend the afternoon playing with the Iron Man toys, wah wah wah.”

While they were in the attic, I saw that they missed an egg.  The candy was in it, but it wasn’t closed.  So I went to close it.

The Egg of Doom

I couldn’t.  Kept trying.  Couldn’t.  Tried some more.  C’mon.  If two kids could close 219 eggs, surely I could close one?  Nope.  Started timing it, and after five minutes of sitting there trying to close the stupid egg, I gave up.

At 3:00 Mom picked up the boys to help her with yard work.  For two hours, in the 80 degree hot sun, they picked up dead branches from all the trees and shrubbery in her 50 acre yard.  She brought them home at 5:00.  They earned $5.00 each.  That’s $2.50 an hour.

So….on Boy7’s birthday, he got some money, had to close 110 impossible to close eggs, cleaned the attic, and was paid $2.50 an hour to do yard work in the boiling sun.  Poor little kid!

A little before 5:00 Scott stopped by to help me with Photoshop Elements getting a picture ready for the Peep Show.  No, there were no naked people involved, get your mind out of the gutter.  Just naked marshmallow peeps.  (I’ll tell you about the Peep Show another day.)

Shorty after Scott arrived, Janet and Gerhard came by for a Drop In.  Oooo!  So much fun.  I think I can really get into this Drop In thing.  I showed them the picture for the Peep show and they loved it.

I was pretty sure Scott would be gone by 5:30.  Yeah.  Silly me.  He left at 9:30. I remembered to take a picture this time.  Not like when Melissa helped me with Elements and I forgot her picture and had to do that ghastly dramatization of forgetting to take the picture of the day.

And I’m starting to learn people’s quirks with pictures.  For example, Melissa doesn’t like it when I let her bald spot be seen in the picture and Scott wants his skin airbrushed just a touch.  Or is it the other way ‘round….?

Birthday Cupcake. Yum!

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6 thoughts on “No Naked People at the Peep Show, Eggs of Doom, and A Drop In

  1. What?! How did you hack into my account!?!?! When our laptops were in the same room last week they must have had some sort of mind-meld and become one with each other.

    The machines are becoming self-aware.

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