Summerhood

Hi again, fans.

As the soggy month of July grinds to a halt, here's some more visuals from the Houghs' last couple weeks.

Bam!

Playing in the rain - swapping out swords for umbrellas this time around.

Getting them to put up the Disney Princess umbrellas can be a pain in the ass. . . not surprisingly.

The Cannonball

Abby shows off her Ariel umbrella

Rockin' Hello Kitty boots (those Japanese were on to something. . .)

So the pool - on its third summer of heavy use - finally sprung a leak.  Well, technically it's the same leak from last summer, but, seeing how it's late July and all - and I'll be heading back to school next week for class prep, etc. - we decided to drain the sum'bitch. . .

The kids are going to have about a week of bathtub-level water to splash around in before we put the thing to the curb (the pool itself is only $90 - it's all the accessories that get ya - so we can just buy another one next summer)

Two Power Rangers, armed with Fire Smashers, engage battle with the sinister Mom Monster. . .

The Hough gals suit up for taking their PowerWheel out on the town er, subdivision.

Abby got to go first, but didn't bother to stop to let Alayna jump on.  She also had a tendency of going off-road, and kicked the gas pedal instead of holding it down.  Basically, it took her about five minutes to drive the length of the sidewalk in front of our house.

. . . so we let Alayna take a crack at it.  Turns out she's a pretty good driver.

Hell on wheels.

Rollin' through Ginger Mill

Getting them tooths clean.

Another big fan of Dad's camera obsession. . .

Drawing Power Ranger 'symbols' (some magical crap from the show, I don't know) with bath crayons.  In the show, the symbols are Japanese. . . and I'm not well-versed in Japanese, so I don't know if these are 100% accurate or not.

This'll teach those frickin' kids to stand up in the bathtub. . .

Another stormy sunset over Central Florida. . .

Hawks have really, really taken a shine to our house.  There were four along the fence (two flew away by the time I came back with a camera.)

. . . the swords come out. 

Fighting bad guys in the rain

Dancing around the front of the house, as yet another massive storm comes barreling down on us. . .

Abby utilizes the Virgin Mary's old 'stage.'

Alayna's turn.

Kris shows Abby how to doll herself up. . .

Abby helps Kris out with her eyes. . .

. . . then does her own.

And of course, a three-year-old has to have lipstick.

- Brian

Parkz

' Mornin', Cyberspace.

I grew up with the notion that when I was older, I'd be taking my kids to the park.  There are always those scenes on TV and in movies where parents are sitting off to the side, making terrible small talk with other parents, while their kids play around on some out-dated playground equipment.  I was ready for this. . . until I had kids and realized that there is absolutely nothing relaxing about taking kids to a park.  At least not when they're two and four years old.


Kris is more of the "Hey, let's take the kids to the park!"-sort than I am.  As a full-grown man, I find parks boring.  I know that sounds terrible, but it's true.  Maybe when my kids get older and I can sit on a park bench for more than three minutes without having to break up a fight, clean a wound, or help a child up a ladder.  Me, I'm a sit-on-my-ass-and-read-at-the-park guy, so every time we end up going to a park around here I snatch up my Kindle with the assumption that maybe - just maybe - I'll have the opportunity to read a chapter out of a book.

But I'm a dumbass. . .

This picture doesn't do this beast justice - it's probably three feet long and two feet wide. . . completely capable of snapping off a toddler's limb.

I have to hold Abby while we feed these sea beasts, or else she - in her infinite wisdom - will deem it 'radical' to scale the rail and propel herself headlong into the water. . .

. . . where monstrosities like this six-foot-long carp is prowling around.  I guarantee this fish gets more carbs on a daily basis than twelve grown men, what with all the Hunters Creek patrons dumping bread into the pond regularly.

The Cannonball, mid-lecture to the fish. . .

The Carp would love to eat my child, I'm sure. . .

Who knows. . .

Holy crap, I'm reading. . .  for about six minutes.

There's a large state park about a half-hour drive from our house called Moss Park.  Acres upon acres of Spanish Moss trees and playgrounds and wandering hordes of these three-feet-tall cranes that are about as domesticated as an animal can get.  For a $5 parking fee, it's an easy way to kill a few hours with the kids.

On this particular outing, Kris was meeting up with a few moms from her League of Extraordinary Moms - that Hunter's Creek social club she's heavily involved with.  She's recently been promoted to Grand Master, or the like - I don't know, the whole thing's beyond me, really.

I don't like driving.

"Ugly birds!"

The League of Extraordinary Moms, or whatever the hell they call themselves, conversing over a snack break. . .

Spanish Moss Tree

After awhile we hit up a second playground located deeper in the woods. . .

The name of the park really is a no-brainer.

Those birds were no better behaved than seagulls.  I literally had to stand guard over the kids while they ate their lunch. . .

The pavilion where we had lunch.

Popsicle time.

Abby enjoys the playground while the older kids hunt down pine cones. . .

Collecting pine cones with the offspring of the Order. . .

"Go away, birds!"

Alayna takes to swinging pine tree branches around at other kids. . .

Cranes.  Not sure what kind, as I'm not down ornithology.

The cranes didn't interest Alayna in the slightest.  Now, pine cones, on the other hand - she couldn't get enough of those. . .

Consulting the map.

Heading across the causeway to the pond. . .

We turned back upon reaching the end, as there's NO railing to prevent kids from falling into the pond and becoming alligator lunch.

This is what passes for an acceptable souvenir in our family, folks.