driving out to my father's house, barreling across this freeway and that freeway, jack piped up from the backseat:
mama, where all the mountains go?
my sweet little alaskan didn't know what to do with himself. he had already proclaimed he wasn't a fan of the sunshine. for once, the child wanted to stay indoors, rather than clamber up jungle gym equipment. and third, he really missed his dada. the kid was all outta sorts.
luckily enough, papa frank helped ease him back into his semi-rountine of roughhousing (or as i heard when i was growing up: playin' grab-ass) and showing him not only a garage but a hanger, complete with airplane, tools, riding lawnmower with trailer and all sorts of other things that dylan could seriously injure herself being around. playing at papa frank's was certainly a much needed distraction for jb.
and as for d, fortunately, the rain held off for a few hours, and we were able to frolic around the runway, measure ourselves against the corn, look for bugs and get slobbered on by the flanagan's labs. dylan likes it best when she can run free. she's a snuggler when she's sleepy, but when she's not, don't try to contain her! she wants to run and squeal and fall down (ok, maybe she doesn't want to fall down...) and eat anything that she can quickly get into her mouf with you noticing. that's duey in a nutshell.
ain't she sweet?!
full of mischief
riley
peek!
love those guys.
watch out - slobbery smooch!
truckin'
jb pickin flowers for papa
buddy
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