Friday, December 02, 2005

Where's My Shovel?

Tater can be so precious some days. We were playing out in the yard when he came running over to me asking for help. "Mom, my shovel! Help me!" "Mom, I can't find it!!!!"

Trying not to laugh since he is being very serious... "Tater, look in your hand."

Tater looks down at his hand, sees the shovel. He tilts his head, smiles, with a little shake to the head and says "Silly Tater."

Gotta love those moments.

5 comments:

oddybobo said...

awe! they make me smile. Yours, that is. Mine, sometimes makes me want to rip out my hair! ;)

Lee Ann said...

Love it! Just love it!

Harvey said...

Up here in the Great White North, searching for a shovel means that it's snowing.

Lucky :-)

David said...

heh

And when that happens to me, I think I must be losing my marbles.

No, I haven't. They're in my pocket where I put 'em.

;-)

Bad Example said...

PROBABLY JUST TALKIN' OUT MY ASS ON THIS ONE

Bloggranddaughter VW Bug of One Happy Dog Speaks was talking about shovels, which made me think about Wisconsin weather. Poor Bug is "suffering" at 55 degrees, and she e-mailed me this observation: most people get cold when you have a...