Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Lets go back to the daffodil farm

Mollie and Aaron's wedding weekend is fast approaching and I've been finalizing our last minute trip needs. Caitlin, Olivia and I went in hot pursuit of Owen's tie last night and after two stores and approximately 20 minutes of discussion, we made a decision. I'm still not sure it was the right one. But now I have to assemble all the outfits for him and John and me. No way would I ever leave theirs up to them to remember all the moving parts required so as not to show up to a wedding in shorts and t-shirts. Has that ever happened? Not to my family, but yes it has. I love a destination wedding, but it's a lot of pressure making sure we have everything we need! 

Besides the fact there've been kinks thrown in our path to getting out of town for the weekend and making things a bit more challenging. John went to Arkansas last night to work today and come home tonight. Well he's been doing this trip for about 20 years and for only the second time in all that time, the machine in the plant went down for the day. So, instead of working all day, he was home by 10 this morning. Now he has to go back on Thursday to work on Friday, so we can leave on Saturday. It will work out, but ugh.  

On Sunday evening we discovered that Owen, whose been housesitting since last Tuesday, has been using his phone without being on the people's wifi for almost 6 days and therefore has used up our entire data package for the month all by his lonesome. I was super happy about it when I found out. So far this week have been awesome.

But I was looking back at some drafts for my blog and saw these photos I never posted  from our trip to the daffodil field. I went through them today and believe it or not, I did take some out. But how can I eliminate pics of such a cute face looking back at me. It's a very difficult task for reals.    

So scroll and see how our afternoon was spent on a very cool day in March. 

No commentary.

Just one cute boy discovering something new. 






















Marching to his own drum.
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