A fantastic, calorie-filled Memorial Day weekend.

First, I must confess that I stole these pictures from my friend Angela.  Thanks.  I was much to busy having a fabulous time to bother with pictures.  Okay, I actually got a night out.  Don't faint but Robert watched the kids. The house did not burn down.  The kids did not starve.  The roof was still attached to the house when I returned.  It was very sweet of him; because I can't remember the last time I told all my secrets (okay not ALL) stayed up late and ate treats with abandon.  Sadly, we were saying good-bye to a good friend who is moving to Florida.  We will miss her!

For Memorial Day, we took the kids to The Valley of Fire to roast hot dogs, eat chips and make ginormous s'mores.  We found out that Max has no fear of heights and may cause his mother to have a heart attack.  Ella does fear heights and she had a few moments of "freaking out" but did her best to be brave.  

You'd never know that they were driving each other crazy on the car ride.  

Max thought it was hilarious to pull up his shirt whenever I took a picture.  That boy!

We finished off the day with a swim in the pool and a movie.  I'm ALMOST looking forward to summer...

Max's Preschool Graduation!

I'm pretty amazing.  At least, that's what Mom says.  

Mommy and the proud graduate.

What better time to practice my flexibility than in the middle of my graduation ceremony?

A solemn occasion.

Hopefully, he'll put his bachelor's degree to better use.  

Max's favorite preschool activity

What Max wants to be when he grows up.  

Poop.

A versatile word in my family.  It can be at one moment a source of extreme hilarity or at the next a heinous insult. "Mommy, (insert name here) called me a poop-head."  It is often tagged on to the end of words and mentioned too frequently at the dinner table.  It is also Max's favorite punch-line to any joke he might tell.  "Garble, garble, gook......(wait for it)....POOP!"  And then he and whomever he is telling (so long as their surname is Reynolds) are rolling on the ground giggling like they ate cocoa-puffs with skittles on top and shot of Root-beer for breakfast.   Max loves the scandalous nature of the word as observed by his ear-to-ear grin after over-hearing my conversation with a tender-eared three-year-old playmate:

Girl: Sister Reynolds!  Sister Reynolds!  Max says BAD WORDS!!!
Me: Really?  What did he say?
Girl: (hushed tone) Poop.
Max:  POOP!

I. CANNOT. TAKE. IT. ANYMORE.  Last night, I informed my brood that if anyone so much as used the word poop outside the bathroom and in the wrong context they would be paying me a dollar for each violation.  So far, I've made three dollars off of Max and he has cried about me taking his "moneys out his piggy bank".  I know I'm mean, but the potty talk has to stop sometime or they will turn out like their Dad.

Case-in-point:

Earlier in the day:

R:  Tell Max his Dad said poop in a can.
Me: I will not tell him that!
R:  Why not?!!!

(A few hours pass)


Me: Btw- anyone who says poop in our family has to pay me a dollar.  New rule.  I'm planning on making a lot of money off you.
R: Poop in a can.
Me: $1 in my wallet.  I might start charging you more.
R:  Hahaha
Me: You laugh now!  Wait until you are broke! Then I'll be laughing.  And don't even think about asking me for a loan...
R: Shoot, this will be tough.

Soon, I'll have a new pair of shoes....and hopefully they'll be cured of a bad habit.

I hate blogger.

Blogger, you stink.  Play my videos.  Sheesh!  It took me FOREVER to upload them.  You are on my naughty list.  BAD. BAD.  BAD.  Badly done, blogger.  Shame on you!  ARGH!

Kate and Ella shine at Kidshine!

Kate's Mom Day celebration

Ella's Mother's day class celebration