Skip to main content

Semanal08 : Week13 - Fun With Water & Leaves







On a chill but pleasent spring morning, our little Sprite finds many an amusement in the back garden wonderland of fallen leaves, puddles, dirt and all manner of things to get himself filthy dirty and soaking wet. Oh well, boys will be boys. Anyhow, it keeps him busy and occupied for a time. Even if it means we have to rake up the leaves again after the G-Express ploughed through them for the umpteenth time.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Hah! Everything was all fine and dandy right up until the last 10 seconds!

Loved watching this one :) Nicely done.
MadMac66 said…
Cheers. That is usually the case with this lad. Everything is rosy until....OH CRAP!

Ha ha, thank you
nadyalm said…
That's so sweet, he was really into the leaves and stuff there..
Maybe he found a worm in there...

Popular posts from this blog

Semanal08 : Week 15 - A Sprite On The Sand

Click to Play On a warm, sunny Spring day the family took a little jaunt to the seaside. Mr. G loves the beach, and makes a beeline for the water the moment we release him from the car. So, we spent a Sunday relaxing down at Huntington Beach, looking out over the glistening Pacific Ocean. It was early in the season so parking was easy to find, and the spacious beach was practically deserted. On this day we took a stroll along the beach path, went along to the end of the pier and looked at the seagulls, got some food from one of the vendors along the path and had a little picnic on the sand. Followed by some fun and frolic, and the inevitable indigestion. Our attempts at building sand castles were thwarted by Senør Destructo himself, his Royal Spriteliness. But we did end up finishing the day off with some ice cream. A visit to the beach is never complete without it.

Book Time With The Sprite

Click to Play The Very Very Very Lazy Lazy Ladybug as read by His Spriteness. One busy morning as I am rushing about the house deep in my morning ritual of putting on my cornflakes and pouring nice cold milk over a bowl of underwear, I heard a voice. It was talking, conversing, telling a story. I easily recognised the voice as that of my own child (now THAT'S parenting for ya) but it was different somehow. It wasn't whining, pleading for some sticky sugary food item he is not allowed. It wasn't crying because the house next door was painted the wrong color. It wasn't screaming, shrieking at the top of his lungs, just to see if it's true  that Daddies eyeballs start to bleed from sound over 21,000hz frequency and 120db of amplitude. No, this sound was quite, peaceful, conversational. I stopped to listen for a moment, half expecting to hear a secret conversation with a new found imaginary friend, or worse. For him to be speaking in Aramai...