Things have been busy here at the Mills. Last week we dug trenches and planted asparagus then dug three post holes to put up lattice to screen our ugly compost pile. That way the neighbors don't have to watch our Christmas tree decay.
We finished planting our garden. We'll see how it goes, this year. Every year we learn a little more than we did the year before.
This weekend we spent working on a more "fun" project. When Everette was little his dad and his grandfather built a sandbox. It had benches and swinging doors that kept the critters out and doubled as a ramp to launch trucks, army men, and little boys off of. So once we found out we were pregnant Everette began plotting the sand box. This was the weekend. We started the morning with a good breakfast. Waffles, bacon and eggs at Everette's parents house. Then Everette, his brother, and his dad headed off to Menard's.
Things started off really smoothly.
Luckily they had me to capture the entire process on film (so to speak).
What an impressive team. One thing you can say about those Mills' boys-they work hard, and the work well together. (oops that's two.)
They framed up the box in the garage, but quickly realized that their childhood sandbox may have "seemed" a bit bigger than it was in actuality. Everette had consulted with his dad beforehand and they decided that the box must have been 8x8 (which made sense-because there would have been little cutting involved. Once we all got a good look at the 8x8 frame in the garage, we decided it must have been 4x4 or 5x5. Oops. Oh well---onward.
Everette and his dad consulting about how to address the monstrosity that is the sandbox.
As the grandfather it is your right to frequently take on a more supervisory role. You know, give fatherly advice from a seated position.The next task was the doors. Must be heavy enough to keep critters out, as well as little boys when their mommy doesn't want them sandy (like before church, perhaps). As I looked at the decking Everette chose for the lid, I was concerned. I voiced my concern, "If I can't open these doors by myself, I am going to be mad."
My concern was quickly dismissed by eternal optimism. I went about making lunch, and when I came out, Everette said, "ok honey open the doors."
I looked down at the door, or what was in reality, a 4x8 deck. I bent down wrapped my hands around the board, and pulled.
Three ruptured discs, a hernia, and a burst cesarean scar later (sorry that was gross, I know), there was still no air between the lid and the box. Eternally optimistic, I asked them to tie a rope so I could pull it over (or harness a team of sled dogs to lift it). When I watched my strapping young husband, and his ultra ripped younger brother (you're welcome Grant) have an anurism lifting the doors together, I was beginning to realize my worst fears.
Grant-charming, handsome, hilarious, delightful, available (seriously-get 'em while you can--he is hoping to go to Spain next year.)
See he's so awesome he's glowing.Then my ultra ripped, genius, and conveniently single brother-in-law said, "what if we made four doors?" A light, at the end of this long dark tunnel. This required a third and final trip to the hardware store, but a few hours later we had four doors.
You're welcome single ladies.
When the doors were only two, this was ONE of the two doors. They were made out of 1x4's, are you getting the picture?
Grant tests the strength of the first door--so brave.
Once Grant determined it was safe-we sent in Jonathan, he was just excited because he got a stick.
Jonathan LOVES to sit on the mower--he has never ridden it, but he loves to "drive"it. I am guessing he won't love it so much on Saturdays when he is in high school.
Look at him with the kiddos, what a catch!
Look at that face! Melts you like butter!
Yes, I am the mom that lets my kid stand up in the wagon.
I forgot to mention this project began at 9 AM, bu the time 6 PM rolls around, the doors were finished and we were ready for the barn raising... I mean moving the sandbox. In anticipation of moving this monstrosity, we had invited my parents over under the guise of having dinner.
Once we moved it to the back, they had to dig out the yard so the sandbox could be level.
Young men hard at work.
Old Men supervising.
Now lifting it into it's final position.
All together now...One...Two...Three. 
And finally, reattaching the doors...
And the test subject was brought back in.
Ramps are good.We finally ate dinner and finished everything around 8:30 (did I mention this quick little project was originally scheduled for Mother's Day? I am so glad that didn't happen!)
Thanks Daddy, for my super awesome sandbox, that mommy can open!!!
1 comment:
Megan, you are too funny! I loved the blow-by-blow, as well as your commentary about your brother-in-law. Has he seen all that yet? :)
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