The Typewriter

I had to show you what we've been up to today. The ever-persistent project guy was at it again. Yesterday he found a book at the library "Building your own Robot". I said, "only you could find a book about that!" He immediately decided he wanted to build something. Of course. But I didn't have time to look through it and there are always too many materials that we don't have. But today after he was done with his schoolwork, he came to me again and asked to build something. I said we could look through the book and decide which project we wanted to do. I really doubted we had many of the supplies that would be required.

Right away we found a project he wanted to do and it seemed I had most of the stuff. I said we would need to get a dowel and some wooden wheels from the craft store, but everything else we had. The directions even said to find an old machine with a motor and take it apart to get the motor. Can you believe I actually had a machine for just that purpose? Months ago a friend from church gave me an old (30 pounder) electric typewriter. I let the kids play with it for awhile but didn't tell them they could take it apart. I'm glad we saved it. Today Holland and I spent over 2 hours taking apart this thing. The first thing we had to do was take the cover off. There were no screws and no visible way of removing the cover. Holland runs to the garage and comes back with a crowbar! We pried the cover off and went to work. We just looked for screws and bolts and started taking them off. Finally, we were able to get the motor off and Holland got all his electrical wires and doo-dads and went to work. Within minutes he had the thing running, spinning cardboard and cooling us off while we ate pancakes for dinner. (My pathetic attempt at dinner. I was busy with the typewriter and that's as good as it got tonight).

He was so excited that we got it off and of course tomorrow I have to produce some wheels and dowels to put the robot together. Here's some pictures of the gutted typewriter and Holland with his trophy motor.

The Key

To save my sanity, several locks have been purchased and installed in our house to prevent Holland from breaking and entering. Don't bother telling me I should just tell him to not go in. It didn't work and with his impulsiveness, it's not worth it to me to keep saying something over and over just to have it ignored. So there are keyed locks on the pantry, my bedroom and finally Romania's bedroom. I mentioned this several times to Super Hero because I was tired of having Holland go into his brother's room when he was at school. I was tired of wallets disappearing, Game Boys going missing and things rearranged. Romania was so excited when he was given his own key and able to lock it and know that his brother and sister couldn't get in without his permission.

It's come in real handy since we've acquired this new mutant frog and tiny fish. In the short span of time that Romania was home, unlocked his door and fed his frog some boxelder bugs, Holland had filled a metal container with water so the frog could bathe. This container is not leak-proof and even though there was a towel underneath it, it still leaked water all over the floor.

But you just can't put it past Holland to try to find some way around the system. Today after Egypt's eye appointment and running one errand, I was getting lunch ready and noticed the microwave was on. I hadn't put anything in and was smelling something. Apparently, the locksmith was making his own key. My guess it was to hack into his brother's room. He had taken clay from our low-fire clay bag and made an impression of a key into the clay and was baking it. I'm sure some day I'll find some humor in his creativeness, but at the time I was irritated that once again he was bucking the system and attempting to violate his brother's space.

I didn't want to encourage this type of behavior so I didn't ask what he was planning to use to actually make the key.

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Memoirs of a Crazy Mom

This is what my blog should be called. So says my sister. I was just chatting with her and telling her about the rat my 10 year-old just bought. While out on a pet store run with his dad and brother and sister. You wonder how this could be accomplished? Let me tell you - it's kind of complicated.

First, you tell your husband to take Romania to the pet store to pick out a frog and fish from an I.O.U from Christmas. He had a beta and a frog a couple years ago that didn't last very long, so I kept promising him another pair. So yesterday, Super Hero takes him to the local pet store to purchase said frog and fish. Now, this next part is my fault (Super Hero would probably argue that ALL of it is my fault, but whatever). He took all three chillun's with him. And Romania came home with a giant frog (giant as is 4" instead of a tiny water frog to keep the beta company). And he didn't get a beta. He got some fish that cost $4 and I don't even know what kind of fish it is. The frog is called a "Dumpy" frog. But Romania is calling it "Dur" because it was dirty when he saw it. I keep trying to convince him to change the name to Dumpy but he won't do it.

Normally when humans buy pets, they find out what kind of food they need to eat. But Super Hero did not do this. Which is why he needed a second trip to the pet store to find out what to feed the critters. My only involvement was calling the store to find out their hours. I didn't think I should have to get involved with this project. But apparently when dads are left to purchase pets and take kids places, they come home with mutant animals and stowaways. When they got home this afternoon, Egypt and Romania ratted on their brother. And that is such a good intended pun - Holland actually purchased a rat. I do not know where he got money. He actually owes me money for breaking some things. But while Super Hero was helping Romania figure out what type of food he needed, Holland was off buying a rat. When Super Hero figured out what happened, he couldn't get Holland back in the store to return it. So when he got home, naturally it was to become MY problem and I was told I needed to return the rat. I said "thanks, but no thanks". Holland said we couldn't return it because he ripped up the receipt.

And you think I'm buyin' this kid a dog? Think again.

Lewis and Clark and Seaman

This past week, we have been reading about Lewis and Clark and their westward journey. The reference book I have - TruthQuest History - has been a remarkable resource for books. Everything I've checked out from the library has been a hit. I have had to return some of them unread because there are just so many good books that we can't possibly read them all. All the books end up being read aloud due to Holland's reading level, but I've enjoyed everything and have learned a lot too!

The latest books have been about Lewis and Clark's trusty dog, a Newfoundland named Seaman. The first book we read was from the dog's perspective and Holland just loved hearing the tales of adventures from this lovable dog. His favorite was when Seaman jumped in the river to capture squirrels that were migrating the river. It was mighty funny to picture this huge 150 pound dog grabbing these tiny squirrels in his mouth and giving them to his master and then swimming back over and over.

Holland is so excited about the Newfoundland dog, that he had me researching them online. It gets very dangerous to listen to his begging - I even found a breeder in Oregon. But I assured him we were NOT getting a dog. I've been saying that for years. But he went ahead and called gramma and told her we were getting a dog.

I said "the dog would have to live outside. Look - it sheds really bad." Why am I even having this conversation with him? We are NOT getting a dog.

"Lewis paid $20 back in 1803 for this dog, Holland. Today they cost $1200." Again, why am I even saying this? It's not like we're getting a dog.

"They need to be brushed for 20 minutes every day. You don't even brush YOUR teeth everyday!" He assures me he will.

"They have webbed paws, great for swimming. We can take him to the lake!", he says. We are NOT getting a dog. "He'll be a good guard dog!"

We are NOT getting a dog.