Koeshall Family News

The boys have outgrown their orange bikes, and were ready to up the challenge in balance.

Next step: The Strider. Duh duh DUUUHHH!!

They have actually taken to it rather well.

And much to their mother’s relief (and their shoes), it has slowed them down a bit, too!

This morning we visited Smallwood’s Harvest, a petting farm/rest stop extravaganza. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the boys loved all the animals and activities.

We heard this lamb bleating above us, much to our surprise. Hello up there! There was a cool little ramp system between pens that the goats and sheep could walk across.

A favorite of one of my boys, 2 miniature bunnies.

Look how tall we are!

Say cheese!

(Later, I found a sign that said, “For your safety, please keep off of machinery.” — Ooops!)

Anyway, it was a fun morning with the boys on the “farm.”

Back in the winter, my boys helped Papa B. load fire wood into a wheelbarrow and then unload it into an apple bin.

Well, Papa B. had the wheelbarrows out in the yard for some spring yard work this last weekend, and the boys spotted them. They knew what to do with these!

They remembered where the woodpile was, and promptly began moving the remaining wood to the wheelbarrows. Once the wood pile ran out, they started grabbing random pieces of wood…anything they could find.

Papa B. let them enjoy themselves, but later unloaded the wheelbarrows and put the wood back.

Low and behold, the next day, the boys found the empty wheelbarrows, and found the wood. And you’ll never guess what they did.

They refilled those wheelbarrows.

Papa B. decided to wait to unload them for awhile this time.

It takes two 3-year-olds to push this lawn mower.

Just one isn’t enough to get this beast moving.

Oh boy! What fun!

We like helping Papa B.

P.S. Do you like our new summer shoes?

This morning, Papa B took the boys on a bike ride in the hills of my hometown. Here are some of the pictures from their trip.

“Over hill,

over dale,

we will hit the dusty trail…”

“Cheese!”

Water and snack break.

Pretty wild flowers.

Are you coming Papa B?

Yah! We did it!

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I hear a rapping at the back door, followed by a little voice hollering, “Happy birthday!!”

No, it is not my birthday… or anyone else in our house for that matter. I go to the back door to see what this is all about. And I find one of my boys with a rhubarb stick in hand.

“Um, thank  you.”

I shut the door, and return to the dining room.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Happy birthday!”

I return to the back door and find my other son with rhubarb in hand.

“Thank you.”

I finally realize my dad is at the rhubarb bush cutting off stems. He must have told my boys to give them to their mommy.

The above scenario continues several more times. (Enough times to make 12 cups of chopped up rhubarb.) I couldn’t help but get the giggles. I have no idea where my son came up with the idea to say “Happy birthday,” but it seemed somewhat appropriate, seeing as they were bringing me “gifts” of rhubarb.

“Happy birthday!”

The boys winter shoes have been officially retired…

as of today.

What once were pristine Sunday shoes, quickly became solely play shoes.

Through grass and mud, puddles and snow, these shoes marched all over the country.

But the rapid ruination of these black and brown friends came from a single source. They were the brakes for the boys bikes.

Zoom! Zoom! Zooooom!

Screeeeeeeech!!!

Can you smell the burning rubber?