Magpie
DIS Legend
- Joined
- Oct 27, 2007
- Messages
- 10,615
We didn't have grass in our back yard when the kids were small either. They used to go outside and roll in the mud, and I'd have to hose them off before they came in. It made their dad a bit twitchy (he doesn't like mess), but I didn't mind.
I miss those days! They're teenagers now, and when they go out it's not to hang around the house anymore. They're always going somewhere else. And there's lots of grass in our backyard now.
Sounds like a terrific family!
As far as roughhousing making real men (mentioned in another response)... My son hates all the roughhousing that goes on in school and between boys. He's far from a sissy, and he's a popular kid with lots of friends, but he's never understood why hitting each other is supposed to be "fun". We've had lots of talks about it, but I really don't have an answer for him and interestingly - neither does his dad. Maybe it's in the genes. Hitting them doesn't make them want to play, it makes them want to kill.
I miss those days! They're teenagers now, and when they go out it's not to hang around the house anymore. They're always going somewhere else. And there's lots of grass in our backyard now.
Sounds like a terrific family!
As far as roughhousing making real men (mentioned in another response)... My son hates all the roughhousing that goes on in school and between boys. He's far from a sissy, and he's a popular kid with lots of friends, but he's never understood why hitting each other is supposed to be "fun". We've had lots of talks about it, but I really don't have an answer for him and interestingly - neither does his dad. Maybe it's in the genes. Hitting them doesn't make them want to play, it makes them want to kill.
She should be sitting inside - playing video games - chatting with friends online - updating her status on a Facebook page - sulking in the yard while she chats it up on a cell phone or sends 100 text messages in a day to say, "Hey"....





) When his mother found out, she was horrified. Then she was angry and declared that her little snowflake was no longer allowed to come to my house. Why? Because Mr. Snowflake might get his sneakers dirty. Oh, and she didn't like the way my son's nails looked.
Good riddance if you ask me.