I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenck's lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirl under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."
~Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Friday, May 16, 2008

A Fathers Nightmare!

The other day as Anthony was mowing the lawn, the girls were running about picking the "flowers!" Above the lawn mower is the sound of Anthony, yelling, "Don't pick those, don't you know they're weeds." It was the funniest thing. Here he is, trying to tell a four year old, and a two year old that their pretty flowers are weeds! And the whole time, I can tell, Ashlynn's thinking,... "What's a weed?, and why does it matter if I pick them and they spread?"

2 comments:

Elder Larkin said...

It looks like springtime has finally come to visit in Logan! Good for you guys! When you coming to St. George?

kate said...

That's right girls. Keep picking them. That's the beauty of a child's mind. They don't care if they are weeds, because they look pretty and that's all that matters to a 2 and 4 year old.