Full circle

Prior to going on one of our infamous pyjama walks, Zoë and Benjamin were playing in the backyard (due to being too wild to remain cooped up inside). I was clearing the table and loading the dishwasher and they kept bursting into the kitchen to show me the latest rock/stick/bug/plum they'd found.

Our plum tree is doing fabulously well this year. Plums aren't exactly my favourite fruit (I've found all store-bought plums that I've had to be both bland and sickly sweet (and mushy)), but having them fresh off the tree has been quite enjoyable. They're a little tangy and full of flavour.

And there's a ton of them! Last year we only got, like, three. This year we've had dozens and dozens of them. We've eaten a ton of them, have given some away, and we still can't keep up with them so they're starting to drop to the ground, which wasn't really a problem until I started hearing little thunks and thuds outside.

*thunk*
*thunk*
*thud*

Then those little thunks and thuds got a little braver.

*thunk*
*thunk*
*thud*

And then those thunks and thuds got even braver still!


*THUNK*
*THUNK*
*THUD*

*THUNK*
*THUNK*
*THUD*

*THUNK*
*THUNK*
*SPLAT*

Whatever had been thunking and thudding smacked against the window with a resounding *BROING*.

I stuck my head out the back door to find that my little boy had been gleaning dropped plums and throwing them at the house. There were bits of plum all over the cement patio, against the house, and dripping down the window.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "We don't throw things at the windows!"

"It...bounced..." he tried.

"Nope," I said. "Plums don't bounce that high."

"I threw it," he said, head hanging down.

"Yeah, you did."

"Sorry," he shrugged.

"Mmhmmm."

I closed the door on him, to allow him to ponder his fate, while I went to fetch Andrew.

"Your son has been throwing plums at the house," I informed him. "I wonder where he got that idea..."

In a moment of youthful indiscretion, Andrew once threw a bunch of rotten tomatoes at the house and has never lived it down. It's become the "but her emails" moment of his life.

"Why am I still being punished for that?" he mumbled (rightfully/jokingly) as he went downstairs to chastise Benjamin.

Andrew sprayed off the house and the patio and, for good measure, Benjamin (who also got a good tongue-lashing).

I can't believe I'm having to reemphasize the moral of the tomato incident but, my dear children, throwing rotten produce at the house is a bad idea so find something else to do!