Words of Wisdom.

It's hot. Like, 110 degrees hot. I've been too lazy to get the kids outside in this heat much lately and I woke up at 4 in the morning worried about what a bad, lazy mother I've been and vowing to do better. After all, we only get so much time with our children before they don't want to be with us anymore. And the girls (both girls - boo hoo) will be in school in a month. So I made a promise to myself that starting today, we were going to DO stuff together, besides just an hour at the pool here or there. So I asked them what they wanted to do this morning. To my utter dismay, they chose to play tennis. It was 9:30, so I said "Ok, we have a small window where the heat won't kill us on the spot, so get your gear on and let's go." We decided to add to the fun by riding our bikes to the tennis courts. It's not too far, but Rhett's only four and he's still on training wheels, so he lags behind quite a bit. We were a little over halfway to the courts when he informed me, "Mom, I think it would have been a lot faster if we drove in the car."

Then, on the way home, after a brief run through the splash park to cool off, we saw a bunny that had been run over in the middle of the road. Off to the side we saw - if you are eating, you may want to set it to the side now - the babies. As in, the fetal babies that very clearly had shot out of the momma's tummy when she got run over. I know, ewwww. But the kids were fascinated. Horrified, disgusted, and fascinated. After they had had all they could take, we took off for home. Reese kept saying "I hope nothing else kills those babies." I didn't have the heart to tell her that the hawk that was circling was probably going to, in fact, kill those babies again. Avery mentioned that it was sad that the babies never got to be born. I agreed and she said "Well, at least I got to be born, and Reese and Rhett got to be born." My first thought was, Yes, Avery, I'm very glad I didn't get squashed by a Suburban that shot you out of my belly, but I felt that was a bit sarcastic for an 8 year old, so again, I just agreed. Then Rhett pipes up. "Mom, we can't kill pets." I said "Well, honey, it was an accident and they probably weren't anyone's pets. It is sad, though." Rhett responds with, "But those are Jesus' pets and we aren't allowed to kill Jesus' pets." Once again, sage advice from a four-year-old.