Mama, mama, mmmmammma! The screen door slams as the patter of my son's five year old feet hit the kitchen tiles, echo across the wood floor of the living room and bounce off the nine foot plaster ceilings of the dining room. Out of breath he slides around the corner to where I am standing holding a sleeping baby.
Again, with eyes sparkling and cheeks flaming, the words rush out of my son's mouth. "I made a giant oucher!"
He leads me to the backyard. Our clothes line is strung between poles of our trellis that will be moaning under the weight of Georgian grapes come Autumn. The ordinarily dangling ends of the clothes line are loosely tied to a neighboring fruit tree. In a flurry of words, my son says, "See. When a giant steps into our backyard, he will get his foot caught here and yell OUCH. Then, if we're sleeping, we'll wake up, hear him yell OUCH and we'll know that a giant has been in the backyard. Really helpful, yeah?!"