The invasion of the football players. They may be small, but they have a tendancy to take over your life. We're feeling very European these days as we eat dinner as a family at 8:30 pm.
I'm feeling very '90's convenience chic as I place the crockpot, rice cooker and bread maker on the kitchen counter tops to do their orchestra of food preparation without me.
The dude in the middle of the picture is Z, #90. Also the only child to be able to take the 90+ heat while wearing long sleeve body armour. He's a real man.
Here's the sweet little 8 year old, K, taking down about three players from the opposing team. By himself. Because he visualizes his older brothers and it gives him THE POWER, that's why.
Here's J, the QB. He has a lot of responsibility this year, which is good for him - it might bring him out of his shell. Do I want him out of his shell? Maybe not,... Bringing the play to the field. Coaches are actually mature enough at this level to contain themselves sort of quietly, at the side lines.
Pass! Before he went down in a crumpled ball of bruises.
Otherwise, it's the same old, same old here in SoCal. Hot. Flu. Fire.
It's happening AGAIN. I watched the DC-10 and various airplanes make drops on the hillside on my run over to meet the family at the football park. Then, woke up dreaming I was camping, only to discover that yes, everything I own that is made of cloth smells like a campfire. Natch, wildfire.
Between that and being hyper cautious because of the flu, this is going to be a looooonnnggg fall and winter. J and S have been psuedo sick. Just enough for me to keep my twitchy doctor calling finger still. Fifi was up all night. Here's to hoping she doesn't vomit during the preschool tour of the Apple Orchard this afternoon.