First, it was a pleasant little pond of death:
Kurt managed, in a very short span of unsupervised time, to loosen each brick that bordered the pond and push it into said pond. Draining it was easy. About a half hour before the guy with the dump truck of dirt showed up to fill it, Kurt also managed to push his sister in, erasing any final doubts we may have had that the pond needed to go.
For the first day or two after it was filled, it stopped being a pond of death and became more of a sinkhole of death. When I walked across its surface I was surprised at how fast my feet slipped into the quicksand. Thankfully, Maria doesn't weigh much.
It is now a rock garden, complete with a very tiny fountain, a very uneven brick border and a solar Buddha.
Of course, the fountain is a lightning rod for small child chaos, and rocks will be thrown. But at least they can't drown.
Incidentally, when I brought the solar Buddha home from the store (Battery powered illuminated deities: an untapped market, no?), there was only one place he could ride safely.
There is at least one more post coming this week that will be related to one or more of the following topics:
1. We have not yet officially closed on this house despite living here over a week now because of an old lien on the property that came out into the sunshine the morning we went to sign the papers.
2. My in-laws are in town taking care of business in a big way with us. There is painting, hanging of curtain rods, installation of doors and shelves, a thousand other things and all manner of emotional support.
3. Jeff and I take turns throughout the day asking out loud, to no one in particular, "Where the f*** is our stuff??" In other words, our boxes are still somewhere out there.
4. Kurt is turning feral. I don't think any stranger who saw him today had any doubt he was raised by wolves.