Backyard Time

Every morning James walks up to the Google Home Mini parked on the console table and asks her, “Hey Google...what temperature is it outside?” And then, whether it’s visibly snowing or not, he’ll ask “Hey, do you think it’s warm enough to go outside?” (If the answer is ‘no’ he’ll volunteer to even wear a jacket.)

They know it’s Spring, and all three of them want to be outside. If Felix hears anyone mention the words “outside,” “stroller,” or “backyard” he’ll suddenly shout “OH YEAH!” and nod enthusiastically, then take off looking for his shoes. They gaze longingly out the windows. They hold conferences and talk about what they’ll do the next time they can go outside. If some of them (for example, the older two) are allowed to go play by themselves while they’re in the backyard while one of them (for example, Felix) is kept inside, the disenfranchised party will shriek bloody murder and attempt to throw books in the trash.

Getting them outside sounds like a great idea, but they’re actually just as destructive and noisy outside as they are inside. The most obvious problem is the digging. Owen has his own shovel now, and he wants to use it pretty much every day. I let him dig a hole, but then I filled it in when I prepped the garden. He wanted to dig another hole, but I wouldn’t let him. Not even in the garden. Not even behind the bush. Not even in the neighbor’s yard.

And even if they aren’t digging holes, they’re finding mud. There’s the garden, there are the soggy patches behind the bush, and there are the deep puddles of squelchy ooze that we’ve accidentally made by missing our driveway edge all winter long and tearing up part of the yard. I watched Owen stand next to the ooze a few days ago and even yelled out a precautionary “don’t” as I realized what he was going to do. It was too late. He took a spectacular leap into it and then burst into tears, explaining that James had told him to do it. (“No I didn’t.”)

If they aren’t digging holes or getting into mud, they’re probably going for the sports bin next. We have balls of various sizes (Felix is the only one interested in the oversized ball from Target that he can’t see over the top of when he carries it around) including footballs, baseballs, and soccerballs. Pretty much all of these balls are used as baseballs. We have an old traffic cone that serves as a tee, and James and Owen take turns batting off of it and then running “the bases” around the backyard. Sometimes they don’t take turns, because Owen, for whatever reason, has decided that James isn’t allowed to hit anymore.

The bats they use are either hollow or foam, but there are still usually tears involved in batting practice. Owen managed to hit Felix (line drive to the face) and James within the span of a couple minutes earlier this afternoon.

The most destructive outside habit, though, is the waterfighting. I, in my infinite wisdom, bought them each a little spray bottle last year. They found them (I didn’t hide them quite well enought) earlier in the week, and they promptly started waterfighting. (“It’s fine as long as you keep it away from me. No, stop. That’s not away from me, that’s all over my book.”) They spray the house, the winsdows, the grass, the car, the driveway, the mailbox, Felix, the inside door (“not inside the house, boys”) the garage door again, and then they’re out of water. And then they either need to track muddy footprints into the kitchen to refill the spray bottles (bad idea) or have someone help them fill them up from the hose (worse idea.)

So those are the problems with having the boys outside. But here are the upsides to having them outside--they don’t seem nearly as noisy when the shouting is taking place in a big outdoor space. The sun is warm and delightful and our faded old camping chairs are delightfully comfortable with a kindle and a glass of wine. They find all sorts of interesting worms and bugs and birds and they examine them and ask good curious boy questions. And, critically, they’ve been great so far about respecting the fact that they have to stay in the backyard.