Just another Saturday morning at Casa Hernandez

I'd been meaning to get back here and address your need to keep up with the Hernandez family, but it seems that my time has been aimlessly squandered to no favorable outcome. Although, I have fixed the sprinklers twice within the last week. (Hey... I'll take even the smallest accomplishments...)

Last weekend, as Theresa and I were sitting at the kitchen table after breakfast, reading the paper (and I have to, yet again, tangentially represent my thoughts - I was reading last Saturday's paper. Theresa was reading a paper that was probably several weeks old. Will someone please ask her why she reads papers that are several weeks old? I have yet to really get a satisfactory answer.) Grayson opened the door from the dining room (which we keep closed so that Mocha doesn't have free reign of the house) and said "There's someone at the front door". We had heard Mocha bark earlier, but he often barks with no apparent stimulus.

Mocha, with his tailless, gutted beaver behind him.
I don't know why Theresa bought him a beaver.

So Theresa went to the door.

She found the door open, and our neighbor, Cheryl, just standing there.

Cheryl standing in the door, as represented by Mattea

Noah had been playing the drums when Cheryl rang the doorbell. Apparently, both Noah and Mocha heard the doorbell, although neither Theresa nor I did. Now, you need to understand that the boys drumset is one of the first things that you see when you walk into the house.

The view if you had opened our front door this morning

This is because all performances by the kids must take place on "The Stage", which is our entryway. It is "The Stage" because it is a raised floor, in comparison to the living room in front of it, and the hallway behind. (Yes, our house, and its condition, pretty much revolve around two five-year-olds and an eight-year-old.)

So, when Noah heard the doorbell, he got up from playing his drums, opened the door, went back to his drums, and continued playing.

Noah playing his drums (in the glare of the afternoon sun)

We're not really sure how long Cheryl was standing there before Grayson walked by and came into the kitchen to tell us of her presence.

Just another Saturday morning at Casa Hernandez.