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Thursday, January 24, 2013

Turns out, I actually do like living in Florida.

"It's the most wonderful tiiiiiiiiime of the yeeeeeeeear!"

I've been singing that song a lot lately.  

I know, it's about a month past Christmas, but seriously, this is the weather I LIVE for here in Satan's butthole.  

60s, maybe even low 70s during the day, dropping to the 50s, or even 40s, at night.  Puuuuuur-fec-tion.

We take full advantage of that perfection and spend as much time outside as possible.  The boys love racing around the backyard, climbing, and playing in their gravel pit.  And of course Mommy loves that they burn off as much energy as possible.  

Lately they love to line up on the fence and then take off when I say "3, 2, 1 ... GO!"  None of them start at the same time and I usually have to say GO about 12 times and they all run in different directions, but they love it.  

Usually Brennan is carrying his bat and swinging it around.  He's obsessed with it lately, but rarely uses it to actually hit the ball off of the tee.  Because it's way more fun to hit the fence, the ground, bugs, and occasionally "accidentally" his brothers.  I'm trying to teach him how to hold the bat and swing and what not, but it's a work in progress.  

If Beckett can actually get manage to pry the baseball bat from his brother, he loves to hit the ball off of the tee.  He tends to use the handle of the bat to do so, but hey, it's progress.  Today he decided that the lawn needed to be mowed.  He's right.  And it needs watered.  Luckily, Daddy will be home this weekend to take care of all that manly stuff.  I avoid outdoor work at all costs.

Kiernan just runs.  Everywhere.  Constantly.  This pleases Brian to no end.  And I guarantee that when I show him these pictures he'll make some comment about his form.  Personally, I'm happy as long as he's not doing any major damage to his body.  He could run like Phoebe for all I care.  (If you don't know who Phoebe is or what I'm talking about, well, then I'm sorry but we can't be friends.)

And then, while Brennan is hitting things with his bat or digging  in his gravel pit and not sharing his "struction trucks" (and forbidding me from taking pictures of them ... oh, 3 year olds), the brothers climb.  Up and down the slides.  On the chairs.  On the dogs.  On me.  They sure do look cute doing it though.

Couldn't you just eat them for breakfast?  I know I could.

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