Do you ever wonder what exactly God was thinking when He gave you the children that He did?
I grew up smack in the middle of three girls and we did things that were very . . . well, girly. We played dolls, houses, doctor, shopping malls, dress-up, and even went so far as to make a kitchen in the middle of Dad’s peach tree.
Then I got married.
And I discovered there was such a thing as a completely different gender than me.
Some days I was completely baffled at the way they work. But God must have thought I required even further integrating because He sent me four boys.
Truthfully, I never dreamed I’d be the mother of more boys than girls. However, I guess the Lord thought it best for me to be bent a little out of my “prissy mold” and sent me four rambunctious, fun-loving, energetic little boys and their papa.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love my men! In fact, I probably spoil them too much with all my “loving”. But you’ll have to remember that love does not always equal comprehension. The comprehension part is coming a little slower than the loving.
Yet I’ve learned alot about these men of mine and I could sum it up in one sentence.
They like things that are loud and fast . . . and go BOOM!
So let me take off my pretty, little, female shoes, don my boots, and show you what has recently went BOOM around here.
A Spud Gun
Lowell made one of these in his growing up years and the boys have been begging him to make them one. So he got all the pipes and fixin’s and put it together for his little tribe.
If you are going to ask me how it’s made, STOP RIGHT THERE. I only provided the ammunition (potatoes), held the camera, and stood way back! I’m all about protecting my own hide in this household. . .
This is where it got put together.
To actually shoot the thing, you must first stuff a potato down the barrel. The end of the barrel was sharp and cut the potato to just the right size.
Then you need a stick to jam that potato clear down the barrel.
After that, you squirt some hair spray or WD-40 into the chamber.
Screw on the cap . . . AND . . .
Pull the trigger on the lighter.
Man, that thing was loud.
And it was aimed in the direction of my blueberry plants . . .
Oh, except chickenpox boy right there . . .
They thought it was great and wanted to do it some more!
However, it’s time for me to go put on my pretty, little, girly shoes again.