children's pay day, sinbad's psychology, lulu and omar's wagon ride, inflation, sparklers, bales, hands up or I'll shoot you with a rainbow

children's pay day, sinbad's psychology, lulu and omar's wagon ride, inflation, sparklers, bales, hands up or I'll shoot you wit from glencadia on Vimeo.

After reading Peanuts Ollie, 7, set up a psychiatry stand. He copied Lucy out of the book, only he raised the price to one dollar. He did all that completely on his own.

I got him a patient: Sinbad. Why does he keep chewing this one spot? I put the collar on him, the spot heals, then he chews it again. What is going on in his head?

Ollie said, "Maybe he was bit by a king mosquito. Those really itch. How long has it been going on?"

For weeks, I said.

"That's about right for a king mosquito."

And as you'll hear in the video, he hounded me for a dollar all day. Not that I got any worthwhile psychiatry out of him.

I suggested he should consider a philosophy stand instead of psychology. The licensing process is easier.

Lotta, 2, put on a tutu, some googles, and stole Ollie's umbrella and attempted to rob me.

Kim, doesn't number 7, Sampson, look an awful lot like Bullwinkle?

All on one average Wednesday:

Sparklers on the way home from going to the neighbor's farm to get milk...

Stacking hay bales in the morning...

Playing dress up...

Picking cucumbers, eggplants, tomatoes, corn, carrots, baking bread, finding eggs...

Going swimming...

Cleaning out the dog van... would have been easier without Ollie using the vacuum, although he meant well.

The geese are grouping up.

The string beans are over.

The first set of corn is done.

The forecast calls for cool days: we can put the fans away already.

Summer is almost over.

The Gordian Knot: Alexander the Great untied it in Asia Minor... ours really wasn't as bad and we were able to figure it out pretty quickly without conquering any territory.

Last week Ollie said that I was the one that put the money under his pillow when his tooth fell out. There is no tooth ferry. And there is no Santa Claus either. So, he figured, there is no soul. When you die, he said, you rot in the ground and get eaten by worms. I said they are different things, Santa, the tooth ferry, the soul, and left it at that.

Today he said that there is no way the it could have been me hiding the eggs at Easter, since there was so much chocolate and I know very well that he doesn't like chocolate. Also, when we went to the party for that friend of ours who died, when we looking at her favorite tree and we looked up and saw the light come between the branches just at that moment on a cloudy day, that means there is a soul. That's what the soul does: it goes to your favorite place.

Where do you think my soul would go?

I don't want to talk about it, I said.