Spoiling my readers?

Here is Paige in today's outfit of choice -- yes, it's a Halloween-themed outfit in FEBRUARY--feeding medicine to our new plants.

Well, it's a good week for blogging. They switched me over to the "new" blogger; hope it isn't causing you any issues.

Yesterday we went for a walk late in the day and came across a firetruck pedal car. It was placed on the grass, by the curb. This is the tell-tale sign that someone hopes you will take their junk, right? To educate my cuties, I instructed them to go up the driveway, say excuse me, and ask the man (handyman) who was cleaning out the garage if he, indeed, was throwing it away. So they did! Not shyly, and very assertively for two small children approaching a grown-up on a ladder! He told us the wheel was broken, and the parts were plastic so he could not repair it. Hmmmm....so Mom went to investigate. Sure enough the front axle was cracked and the front right wheel totally inoperable. But there were enough parts that I thought I might have a chance piecing it together.

To get the booger home, I had to walk all three blocks bent over sideways, steering and kicking the wheel into alignment. (This would have been fine except I overdid it a bit in the garden the previous day with my pruning and planting -- ouch preggy back!) Paige rode the trike taxi home alone behind Graham in the newly-procured firetruck. Sleeves pushed up back in our driveway, we

washed off the dubious "mud" (I think it was feral cat diarrhea, from the beautiful wild cats the handyman showed us being fed by feeders in their driveway) with vim and vigor, paper towels and lots of spraying of cleaner. Then we called Grandad, explained the problem and he said he thought he could fix it. Well, I've got a little of him in me. Maybe a lot when you consider all the time I spent tinkering at hardware stores and in the garage with him as a kid...

Today, I visited the hardware store. I bought four screws of various lengths and widths, and two special nuts that resist unscrewing under vibrations thanks to a rubberized inside washer bit. Totalling about 83 cents. With two little washers from home, a screwdriver and a wrench, WE DID IT! I unscrewed the rusty battery pack, the kids ran inside for three fresh C batteries, and VOILA -- even the walky-talky and sirens work! The kids are still in a bit of shock that it actually belongs to them now. I'm sure Al is a little thrown off by my thrift sometimes. More importantly, it was an opportunity for them to see that things headed for the trash can be turned into treasures if you put a little elbow grease and care into them.