Making Clay

Soon after my second son was born, which was only fifteen months after my first son, I thought about being that house on the street where all the kids came to play. You know the one, maybe it was yours growing up, the one house where there was always something going on, the kid's parents were cool, and time ceased to exist. I would be showing them how to build things and fix their bikes. We would light fireworks and shoot BB guns. They could all call me Mr. S or even Shep if they wanted to.

All I can say is be careful what you wish for. This summer our house is becoming that place. I'm not trying to say we are cool, because I'm starting to struggle with being the house with a yard full of everyone else's kids. You can cross out the part about the parents being cool. Actually cross out the dad part, my wife is extremely cool, being a teacher probably helps with this, but she finds all kinds of projects and experiments for the kids to try that includes them all and keeps them spellbound. I am stuck with trying to remember all their names and quite frequently don't recognize some of them as they come out of the kitchen with cookies and snacks from the pantry. I call my kids by the wrong name and there are only three of them, so when the kid carousel is spinning and someone new shows up, I have to say their name out loud, but under my breath, a few times so in case I have to address them I am not saying," Hey.....kid....no, the one with the red light saber, what are you doing?"

Well we took it to another level tonight as my middle son and one of his classmates that lives next door asked my wife if they could make something out of the kids creation book. My first thought in my head was, hell no, but my wife said as long as you can do it by yourselves then go for it. Again I defer to her in the kid arena as I am still quite juvenile myself. I'm thinking, wow, that is cool, she is empowering them and they will have to read the problem and conduct the experiment themselves, she is still teaching in the summer. They decide to make clay. All they need is oatmeal, flour, and water. What can possibly go wrong with that? They set about it diligently and are working well together. At this point the doorbell rings and one of the new kids to the Shepherd family circus has finished dinner and is back for more. I answer the door and tell him that the other boys are downstairs, you know the way.

Now my hearing is suspect after being in the landscape industry for twenty years and raising three boys, but fortunately my wife can hear things that escape the bionic woman, and catches a snippet from the kitchen, it is our neighbor that is helping with the clay experiment, say,"..watch Kellen, it is going to spark again!" I see the alarm in my wife's eyes and tune in. What? See what they are doing please. I walk into the kitchen to see my son getting ready to heat up the clay in the microwave. I make the great parental decision to open the microwave and see that they have chosen a Sprite can to use as their 'bowl'. I grab the can and feel that it is warm so they obviously have already run it through the first time. I over react and tell both of them that they are out of the kitchen. My wife trumps me, and asks my son to read the recipe and tell her where it says to heat up the clay. Kellen, being the stubborn one(he gets that from his mother) brings out the book and says,"it says here to heat up the clay if it is too runny." My wife says,"How do they spell heat?" My son replies,"K-N-E-A-D, heat." My wife explains to him that that is knead, not heat, and he wants to know what the heck knead means. She explains and he tells her,"we can't now, we dumped it all down the drain."

You all know how I am spending the evening now, right?