A summary of our drive home tonight:

Simon: Mommy, let’s do knock knock.
Me: Okay.
[Long pause.]
Simon: You say, “Knock knock.”
Me: [Racking my brain for any knock knock joke I can remember.] Okay, Knock knock!
Simon: No, wait. I’ll say, “Knock knock.”
Me: Okay.
Simon: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Wait. You say, “Knock knock.”
[Repeat indecision and confusion about who should start the joke for a full ten minutes.]

Me: Knock knock.
Simon: Who’s there?
Me: Owls.
Simon: Owls who?
Me: Right. Owls hoo!
Simon: I was supposed to say that.
[Repeat various parts of this and the one other knock knock joke I know (banana, banana, banana, orange you glad I didn’t say ‘banana’) for several more minutes, sometimes with Simon starting, sometimes with me starting but no one ever managing a full and correct joke start to finish.]

Simon: Knock knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Banana!
Me: Banana who?
Simon: Poonie!
Me: What?
Simon: Banana Poonie!
Me: Um. Okay.
Simon: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Simon: Tractor Poonie!
[Repeat “Poonie” punchline with anything that catches his eye for the next several minutes.]

[I tell the owls joke again and try to explain why it’s funny.]
Ian: Knock knock! Who dare?
Me: Who’s there, Ian?
Ian: Knock knock! Who dare?
Me: Okay, Ian. Knock knock.
Ian: Who dare?
Me: Owls.
Ian: Yeah! [Laughs hysterically.] Knock knock! Who dare? Poonie.
[Repeat all exchanges in random order until both boys fall asleep.]

It’s Spring Break this week for LPS, and while that doesn’t mean a whole lot of change in our weekly routine, it does mean that the Tredways are available for an adventure. When Rebecca suggested that we take a day this week and get out of town, I was all over it faster than you can say, well, I don’t know . . . something you can say very fast.

We chose Nebraska City as our destination, specifically the Arbor Day Farm Tree Adventure (or “a great big treehouse” for ease of explaining to the kids). Simon was so excited the night before that he could hardly sleep, and I so wish I could see how he pictured it in his four-year-old imagination.

After a windy picnic, we were ready to head to the treehouse. There is a shorter, paved loop and a longer (2/3-mile) woodchip path. Rebecca and I easily decided on the longer path, thinking the hike would get the kids good and tired. And (foreshadowing) we also thought that we would be just fine ourselves—less than a mile walk? Easy peasy. We started off bravely.

There is a ton of neat stuff along the path—a willow-branch fort, stuff to climb on and stuff to climb through, several art installments, educational stations with information about the birds and other wildlife, gnomes (of course), a lesser treehouse, and bridges and kissing trees and loops that go nowhere. What I really like about the place is that it is fun for a wide range of ages—Ian at 2, Simon at 4, and Liv at 7 all seemed to be having equally good times.

It was a beautiful day, the kids were enjoying themselves and each other, and we felt like supermommys for having the kids outside and active for so long. And while all of that was true, our one misstep was underestimating the heat (it was in the 80s. In March). We didn’t bring any water with us, and we were all sorry for it.

About three quarters of the way through our 2/3 mile, we made the mistake of sitting down to rest. Ian started wandering down the path the wrong way, and there was little I could do to persuade him to continue with us. Finally, he asked, “Go my house?” And I realized that was the key to moving him forward. “Yes, buddy, we are going home.” So we marched on a little ways, and then I realized he was just kind of repeating the same words over and over: “My hooow [my house]. Thuhssy [thirsty]. Choc meee-o [chocolate milk or, you know, something better for him]. My hooow. Thuhssy. Choc meee-o.” It was awfully cute and rather pathetic. It was definitely naptime, and the sweet little guy quite possibly has never walked so far at once. Poor kid.

All of us were greatly revived by bottles of water from the gift shop and some more fun play at the Nature Classroom. (I didn’t get any pics this time, but they have a really fabulous xylophone that Ian especially loved.)

While Ian and I and Clara missed the actual treehouse in our desperate need for water and a diaper change, the big kids found it and from Simon’s account, it did not disappoint. Ian was really none the wiser, and we all had a really great time, hot weather and all. We piled back in the car satisfied and tired—the good kind of tired—and perhaps the best part was that Rebecca and I still had an hour of adult conversation to look forward to while the kids were safely buckled in and conked out in the back.

Visitor Information: The Arbor Day Farm Tree Adventure is open Monday through Saturday 10am to 5pm and Sunday 11am to 5pm (I believe the hours are longer in the summer). Admission is $6.50 for adults, $4.50 for kids 3 to 12, and FREE for kids 2 and under.

It should be obvious that pictures on the blog don’t tell the whole story. So many times I just don’t mention how it all became House of Pain right after I snapped the picture of our adorable kids laughing or concentrating on a baking project that I was such a cool mommy to let them help with. I like it when people admit that life isn’t always clean and happy. And I’m pretty sure everyone knows that all families have their shares of tantrums, messes, parenting fails, unfinished projects, and so on and so forth. But sometimes, some beautiful times, the whole story is actually better—much bigger, much more joy-filled—than photographs could ever capture. “An overwhelming grace” is how our friend Andrew recently described a day with his daughter, Adeline. I love that. This morning was one of those times.

I got up early enough to make a simplified version of Giada’s Baked French Toast, and the boys actually ate something I made (a rarity these days). We had a proper sit-down for breakfast, and the boys—in their matching jammies—talked animatedly with Jason while I enjoyed my second cup of coffee.

Then Clara woke up and the boys entertained her while my heart exploded with love for my great big pile of kids.

First up for Project Simplify this year was kids’ stuff.

I started a couple of days early with the clothes. For some reason it seemed like a good idea at the time to let the boys help. And actually it wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t terribly efficient either. We (well, mostly I) packed away the things that are too small for Simon but still too big for Ian and set aside the things that Ian has grown out of for my sister’s baby boy, who is getting ready to make his appearance at the beginning of May. We didn’t get to Clara’s clothes, but she hasn’t really grown out of anything yet, so I had just a few gifts and stray hand-me-downs to put in their proper places.

I also spent a couple of hours one morning straightening up and organizing toys in the basement playroom. We have sorted through toys somewhat recently and I was kind of obnoxious this year in asking that everybody limit the number of gifts that the kids got for Christmas and birthdays, so this task wasn’t as big as it has been in the past. I have a couple of grocery bags to donate and two small bins of toys hidden in the basement that will also be donated if the kids don’t miss them or ask about them in the next six months.

The biggest change this year had to do with the little alcove by the front door. Years ago the roommates and I made it a reading corner (the L’Abri corner), and when Jason and I got married we more or less thought of it for the same purpose. But the reality was that we hardly ever read or listened to music in the big red chair. Instead the whole space had become a dumping place for our coats and whatever else we carried in the door.

So I had the idea that we should use the corner for another purpose: kids’ stuff. We took all the stuff that was kind of sprawled out all over the main floor and gave it a home.

The before was actually much, much worse; it’s just that I didn’t think to take a picture until we had started the process. The after stayed picked up for about seven minutes; it’s messier now. And as often happens with decluttering, one project kind of overflows into others. Because we had to clear off the bookshelf in the L’Abri corner, we started going through all our books. Currently we have two half-empty bookshelves, a dining room table full of books waiting to be reshelved, and five bags of books waiting to be sold and/or donated.

Next week we organize the kitchen and pantry.