My Mom is Cooler Than Your Mom

This past weekend my mom came to town on a mission.

My babies love the sandbox, but our green plastic turtle just wasn't cutting it anymore.  Margot frequents the sand most often, and her little body takes up that whole turtle.  Charlotte tries to muscle her way in, then gets angry when she's denied entry, and Gabe just stays away because he knows he doesn't have a chance.

We needed an upgrade.  Enter Grammy.

To say that my parents don't fit into traditional gender rolls is no understatement.  My mom is super handy, and we don't even hand my dad a screwdriver.  And if I inherited the crying gene from anyone, it was not my mother.  (Sorry, Dad, I know you're reading, but I cannot tell a lie!)

Early Thursday morning, my mom packed her car full of tools (Including child-size hammers so my littles could assist.  And a circular saw, you know, because doesn't every grandma have a circular saw?) and headed down to North Cackalacky.  Once she arrived in town, she hurried over to Home Depot to purchase the necessary lumber (which she loaded into the car by herself, thankyouverymuch), and then set to work on a sandbox extraordinaire.

The kids really got into the process.  They were measuring perimeters, pulling up roots and stumps that were in our way, and hammering posts.  They were so excited to be a part of the project.  And by the end of the day on Friday, they had a brand new super-sized sandbox.

I love that they'll spend hours outside, digging holes and building castles.  I love that our backyard is an even cooler place for my kids to hang out.  But mostly I love the memories that they just made with my mom, and that hopefully they'll think of her when they're out there digging away.