Family Dinner

Birdie has been BEGGING her dad to do a woodworking project with her since the boys made a birdhouse -
2 years ago.

This weekend they finally chose their plans and purchased the materials. After the 2 hour trip to Lowe's Dad decided that was enough work on the project for one day. Instead of a bird house for our Little Birdie, Birdie wanted to make a box. I'm pretty sure she meant like a box to set on her desk. She and her father are now making a hope chest.

Oh, yeah, this should provide plenty of blogging material.

Last night at dinner Birdie couldn't contain her excitement anymore,
"My hope chest even has a secret compartment to hide love letters!"

Her dad quickly responded with eyes popping out of his head,
"You mean sweet letters from your mom and me."

"Not now Dad, when I'm a teenager."

Still seeking safe ground and a way to preserve her at 8 forever, her Dad added,
"Well, maybe when you're in college."

"Dad, I will be a teenager in college."

As my husband searched for a way to save the innocence of the hope chest from the yet unwritten love letters, my 12 year old piped up,

"Mom, what do you think happens to play dough when you set it on fire?

I swear this actually happened. You can't make this up.

My husband admitted that, "Yes, you will still be a teenager in college, but it can just be a place to keep nice notes.

Birdie then says, "And my hope chest has a lock, so I can lock it."

I egged everyone on by saying, "To lock up your love letters."

To which the two boys continued with their own conversation, "Do you think the play dough blows up?"

As my husband handled the, "I don't really know what happens to play dough, and I don't want to find out through your experiment."

Birdie whispered, "Mom, I'll have one key to my chest and you and dad will share a key."

My husband raised his eyebrows and nodded over his planning skills.

"I know, I know, we can set the play dough on fire, lock it the chest and see if it blows up," said the boys howling at their own destructive creativity.

Birdie was pouting, Dad was sweating, the boys were off into the undesirable world of boyhood fantasy. Family dinner time was definitely over. Time to clear the dishes and move on to something a little less stressful than family conversation and bonding.