construction zone

Wooden blocks are out.  "Let's build something," I say.

Elder lad: "You're the mom.  You get to decide."
me (wishing to record those words for posterity and precedent):  "How about a house to fit my family?  Soon my husband and I will have four children."

him: "so you'll need four, five downstairs and one upstairs."
me:  "bedrooms?"
him: "yes."
me: "yes -- a guest room would be nice.  We might not need quite that many bedrooms, though.  We can share."

me to younger lad: "what do you want to do for the house?"
him: "bake muffins."

That's an idea I can get behind, but he soon abandons the oven he's constructing in favor of building a bank with a drive-through lane, then later swiping all the cars and tucking them into the box the blocks came in and covering them with pillows.

Check this out:

Notice the sweet vintage Chevelle station wagon.  That's a gift from my dad, as is the flame-bedecked Nomad.  Those are the family vehicles.  The brother pick up trucks parked one in front of the other are for the lads.   The Citroen, Alfa Romeo, and Charger (below) are Date Night cars.

The back view shows the elder lad's fleet of service vehicles: firetruck, the fire "jeef"'s SUV, his Mack truck ready for dispatch to the grocery store, and the dump truck for trips to Sam's.