Lest you think that we have sold the children to finance our kitchen extravaganza (something we might do if we could only figure out how to make it work...), I submit recent photographic evidence of at least one of our cherubs: As Ross was undressing after his game on Sunday, he asked if we could bring one of his teammates home for the afternoon, since they "never get to do anything but play hockey together". We had no fixed plans for the day, so I agreed.
Four seconds after achieving the house, I found them crammed into the tiny square of space in our living room that is not filled with kitchen-related clutter, playing something other than hockey...sort of. I teased them about it a little, so they only played one contest before taking themselves downstairs to - wait for it - play passing games with our SweetHands stick handling jig.
I finally told them it was much too nice to be cooped up in the basement, so they donned costumes and ran out to play in the woods. Neither one combusted, so we know that it is possible for them to play something other than hockey together and the potential value of my eldest as a kitchen funding device is intact, in case anyone is interested in acquiring a sometimes moody nine-year-old.
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