Family Night Fretting and Fun

Every Monday night is family night in our household where we reserve time to enjoy one another's company while working together, playing games, etc. Last night I dragged my kids out into the front yard to assist with a small yard cleaning project before we played an outdoors game. I'm sure you can imagine just how enthusiastic my boys were.

In our front yard is a tree with which I have a love/hate relationship. I don't know exactly what kind of tree it is, but it provides nice, cool shade in the summer time. In the winter, however, it drops these spiky seed pods that, with the help of the snow and rain, become embedded deep within the grass. So, come springtime, when the grass is green, the weather is warm and bare feet are an absolute must (no exceptions - it is the law), these little pods of pain lie waiting for the unsuspecting foot.

In order to appreciate the experience, take a box of 100 bulletin board tacks, toss them all over your family room carpet and then proceed to try and cross the room with your eyes on the ceiling and your feet bare.

So the task I set my kids to was to pick up the piles of the little spiky devils that I raked out of the grass. I was the one breaking my back with the rake trying to extract the little demons from their grassy lairs, but you would think I had assigned them to clean out someone's septic tank with their bare hands with all the complaining they did. All I could do was encourage them to hurry so that we could play a game when we were done.

I finally called it quits after only getting have the front lawn done (a good general always knows when he is fighting a losing battle) and introduced them to croquet. When I was five years old, my neighbor used to invite me over to play croquet all the time during the summer and I had a blast. So I bought a croquet set that I found at a discount store four years ago and it has been collecting dust in my garage ever since (mainly because I have always struggled to keep up with mowing the grass to where it was short enough for us to play).

I brought out the set anticipating all the fun we would have. I figured, being boys, they would love the fact that they got to hit a ball with a mallet. It was perfect ... until my three-year-old decided that the ball was just a little too small and difficult for him to hit so he went after bigger game ... the neighbor kids bike ... the tree ... his brother ... me!!! I guess I should have seen that one coming. I predict he will have a very bright future in house framing. Just give him a hammer and point him in the right direction and he will pound anything you ask him to ... and probably a few things you didn't ask.

We did have a lot of fun, though. My five-year-old had the lead for most of the game with his mom following close behind him, but I managed to shake the dust off my mallet swinging skills to edge them both for the win. (That's right! I've still got it!) At this point the whining and complaining began again as we cleaned up the game and proceeded with the nightly torture session of feeding them dinner. I'm still not sure who is being tortured more - the boys for having to eat delicious, healthy food or the parents for having to listen to them complain about it.