How do you like our lake?
We thought the swingset might be more fun as a waterslide. But hey, at least we're not our back neighbors. Do you see their yard? Look closer:
It's been raining here for about 36 hours and damn. That's a lot of water. Poor Andrew slept on the couch last night so he wouldn't disturb me when he got up once an hour to go sweep water towards the pump in our basement. Our "water-proofed" basement. Granted, we only had them water-proof one wall because that used to be the only wall where the water came in. We think we'll be calling them to come back.
And now I get to spend the rest of the day going down there every hour to sweep water towards the pump. Methinks we will be having take-out for dinner tonight.
Oh, hey, speaking of dinner, last Wednesday Jack helped me make "pasta pie." He stirred it.
There were... a few extra dishes to wash than if I had done it myself. And I found some hardened cheese on the wall behind the mixer yesterday. Hey, I'm just glad there was none on the ceiling. (checks ceiling)
The results, howevere, were delicious, and I might post the recipe for you because mmmmmm. This was the same day that I spent three hours making Cook's Illustrated potato leek soup that Jack touched his tongue to and pronounced yucky, but Jack is insane because it was so good.
But here's the thing: I didn't expect Jack to like the soup. That's why I also made sausage pasta pie, which tasted like sausage and cheese and which I assumed he would love. And I let him help me make it! And while making it, he ate multiple fingersful of raw sausage (tofu! tofu sausage!) and liked it, so I was sure the meal would be a home run.
And then he wouldn't even try it. After the brush with the potato leek soup, he declared that he "didn't want this dinner" and that he "was leaving."
"Oh no you're not," I said. "You don't get to just leave the table. You have to ask to be excused." This went on for a while until I could feel myself starting to lose it and I said, "OK, you're excused. Go. I'm getting mad, so leave."
Ten minutes later, after absolutely no intervention from me, he came back and sighed, with an air of long-suffering, "OK. I'll try it." He took a bite, chewed, and spat it out, and had a banana for dinner.
But here's the reason I'm subjecting you to this story. We had pasta pie leftovers on Friday night. I simply put some on Jack's plate without comment along with some beets, which I know he'll eat. And what do you think happened? Yes. He ate it with great relish, said it was "so good", and asked for more.
I win this round, Jack. Ha.
Edited to add: I just watched the news, and am feeling a bit less sorry for myself. Also, Andrew is home because I had to send for him since I could not keep up with the water AND tend to the children. Those darn children, always needing something.