Cannot make this up.

It’s not that often that five kids want to do the same thing at the same time. Winning.

Pretty crazy how simply rotating toys back out of the basement can enthrall the small people. Today we unearthed four doll-strolling devices, and the strolling not only has not ceased in the intervening hours, it even attracted the boy’s attention. I suppose no one should go tell his classmates.

This afternoon, the girls played duck-duck-goose but repurposed other phrases for it. Rose-rose-bush. Rain-rain-bow. God-God-love. Mmm-mmm-good. Toilet-toilet-bowl.

Simply cannot make this up.

The dolls patiently waited it out in their various doll-strolling devices.

I have concocted pickles for the first time in four or five years. A little bit of advice gleaned from a canning group may have given me the processing answer that wasn’t written down in my grandma’s recipe. Time will tell. All my previous pickles are merely dump-worthy.

Grandma’s pickles were emphatically not dump-worthy. Also, I have somewhat too many cucumbers if anyone would like some.

Meanwhile, August and Jeremy went to the Ron Brown event at our church this afternoon and evening. I’ll be interested to get the rundown on this because Ron is approximately 5000 times more evangelical than 99.5 percent of Lutherans.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell when a kid understands an abstract concept, and sometimes it’s not. “Mom,” said Raina the day before school started, “does a ‘d’ go north or south?” She was facing east so I said north and ta-da, she got it right.

I thought it was pretty cute when the favorite thing about the first day of school for one child was a tale about guessing the teacher’s age. Daughter thought it was awesome that every time someone guessed in the 30s, that kid got a “Bless you.”

That’s kinda how I feel when I get carded, come to think of it.

I am about this |—| close to begging off the Hub column due for September publication. This has been a terribly disheartening spring and summer, but I guarantee nobody wants to read whining and complaining. How does one reframe a disaster into some kind of optimism? Again, time will tell.

To close, a wholly invented joke texted from our oldest to the kid down the road, and the friend’s wholly invented reply:

What did the sheep say when the cow cracked a joke?

Ha. No, ba.

This was previously a Facebook post.

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