This past weekend, Wylie and I headed to Tulsa to babysit my sister's kids. So, while my sister was gallivanting around Maine and New Hampshire, I caring after her 12, 10, and 6-year-old ninnymuggins. Wylder had a blast hanging out with his cousins, and I got to spend some quality time at my parent's house. He kicked around thinking he was one of the "big boys" almost all weekend. I say almost because one particular afternoon, Wildman had to be a spectator instead of a participator. It was just too dad-gum cold outside to hang with the big dogs. And it was pretty stinkin' tough on this little redhead. He wanted out there so bad he could taste it. Can I, Mom? Please? I know what you're thinking. What one earth could possibly be that interesting. Is it a antler-wearing labrador doing tricks in the front yard? Is it a good old fashion game of kick-the-can? Or is it Papa in a turtle hat rigging up the biggest, baddest, most obnoxious snowman on this side of the country? You guessed it!
