Canary Islands

The picture of Sean-Peter running away pretty much sums up our vacation experience in the Canary Islands! It took him all of 24 hours to get familiar with the place and start putting his escape tactics into place. So much for lounging by the poolside...

We enjoyed our time together, away from the many projects calling to us with our impending PCS, but we were wishing we had not gone so far away to get away... and John and I have since called a moratorium on unnecessary flying with Sean-Peter until he's, like, 17.

little helper

Conner had fun taking some pictures yesterday evening while John and I were mowing the lawn with our Little Helper. This little guy kept going as long as we did (we did not finish; our yard is huge), it's just too bad his wasn't a real mower! It wouldn't be possible for John and me to mow at the same time if Sean-Peter didn't have his toy mower right alongside us.

This is a guy that doesn't hesitate to

sit on the vacuum while I'm trying to use it. (Maybe I should get a miniature

one of those, too, huh?) He was making a beeline of glee straight toward me completely undeterred by the whirring engine and shooting grass before I thought to dig out his own version.

He must have mowed with us for a good hour.

(What are the chances he'll keep this up so willingly into his teenage years...?)

For God So Loved the World...

... that He lets us incorporate pagan traditions into our Easter celebration! Okay ... but really, what would Easter be without the egg hunt and sugar overload?

And overload they did -- at least Sean-Peter. I'm not sure we ever managed to get anything into him that day that could reasonably qualify as belonging in one of the five food groups. It certainly couldn't make sense to a two-year-old that he couldn't freely eat from the many desserts on display at our church potluck -- mere steps away from our seats at the outdoor service.

We did try to steer him away from the desserts and toward the real food, but we were mostly unsuccessful. To make up for all the sweets that day, our grand plan was to ban them the next. That forced Olivia to resort to sniffing the candy wrappers like the true addict she is, clutching a remnant like it was the last remaining vestige of a bygone era.

Our sugar-free plan mostly worked, too -- other than Sean-Peter discovering the one unfound egg (there's always one, isn't there?) and promptly devouring the chocolate inside. Oh, and there was the little thing with our elderly neighbor, calling over the piccoli as she likes to do, only to have them return with a full piece of cake in one hand and a bag of candy in the other. Well, we tried.