Little Boy Adventures

At the end of February, Cannon turned eight.  Eight must be a pretty important age, because it hasn't even been a month yet, and he's already had lots of adventures.
He got a pogo stick for his birthday, and I was sure he'd have a broken arm within a week, but so far so good.  He can stay on it for hundreds of hops in a row, and it's basically the perfect toy for my little jumping bean.

Turning eight means, of course, that he got baptized! Jef was able to baptize and confirm him, and when we asked Cannon afterwards how he felt, he said he felt taller.  That's a good thing, because the poor kid is awfully short for his age. He got to share his baptism with his super good friend, Cadie, from around the corner.  We were planning on attending her baptism anyway, so it was very convenient to have them on the same day.

The night before Cannon's baptism, I was giving some long overdue haircuts, and so the boys both had their shirts off.  They were thinking they were pretty hot stuff.  I was trying not to laugh. I'm sure someday they will both have impressive muscles, and this picture of Cannon's ribs will be a hoot.  What am I saying?  It's already a hoot!

We have been having such beautiful weather, that I bought some cheap kites at Wal-Mart and took my kids over to the elementary to fly them.  They thought it was so cool, and most of them couldn't remember ever flying a kite before.  (Guilt, guilt, guilt...  how are you supposed to keep track of all the experiences your children are supposed to have?  I should make a list.) 

Anyway, Cannon thought flying a kite was a breeze.  He even flew his kite for a time while lying down.  I guess it's easier to see your kite that way - easier on the neck, you know.



The weather has been so nice, in fact, that Cannon and Jennie were convinced they were going to melt the other day, and nothing would do but to take a run through the sprinklers.  In March?  But somehow they were able to talk their mother into it, and they were mercifully saved from melting to death.

They didn't even turn blue afterward, and Cannon was still begging for more when the sprinklers turned off.

And, of course, if you're eight that means you're in Cub Scouts.  And if you're in Cub Scouts, that means you get to go to the Pinewood Derby. 

Cannon's car did awesome! (Even if it didn't have a professional looking, obviously-not-done-by-an-eight-year-old paint job.)  He won first place in the Wolves (his age division), and 2nd place overall.  So he came home with a ribbon, a medal, and a trophy.  Being eight rocks!!!

One of the experiences Cannon has definitely not missed is milking a cow. My parents have a milk cow, so my dad is always looking for volunteers to do the milking. And Cannon is always happy to volunteer! He's getting pretty good at it, too!
So there's one month in the life of an eight-year-old.  You can imagine what it requires to keep up with the kid.  (Picture me out of breath, running up to every event with my camera.)  Here's hoping the next eleven months will be a little quieter.  (I'm not counting on it, but I can always hope.)