If I was going to use one word to describe my family, I would probably pick “athletic”.

Those of you who know us, probably just died laughing.

I love having a big family. Nearly everyone is always in a different phase of life. We’ve got the married one, the engaged one, two single & working ones, the college one, the highschool one who just got his license, the dancing one, the dollhouse one, and the cowboy.

I don’t know when, and I don’t know where… but Colson just discovered a long forgotten plaid flannel button-up shirt. Granted, it is a little tight on him, but when he puts that baby on… the world is transformed into the wildwest, and he is the manliest of cowboys. The last few days, he’s donned a cowboy hat and a bandana, thrown a couple fake weapons over his shoulders, and takes off for adventures in the woods. He keeps at least the top two buttons of the shirt unbuttoned – he needs to give his chest a little breathing space.  He keeps the sleeves rolled up to his elbows – ready to rassle any livestock that crosses his path. He came in yesterday with his arms covered in mud. I asked him how it happened and he said “yep… it’s just what happens when you work hard” and headed into the bathroom to clean up before dinner. While working on his cement fort, he throws back his 11-year-old shoulders and hoists the heavy pieces, as the neighbor girl stand by and gasps with awe. When he gets too warm, just unbuttons the shirt all the way for ventilation purposes. (at this point, Bethany says “eww” and covers her eyes.)  He commented today that he has decided the shirt makes his muscles look bigger.  He flexed to demonstrate. Marta agreed, between bursts of laughter.  He’s decided he needs to make a trip to GoodWill to pick up (as he put it) “another couple of these babies”.

So today, Colson, Bethany, Marta and I went outside to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and played a game of croquet.  Of course, Colson was in his flannel shirt… and of course he spent most of the game flexing and checking out his muscles. I almost felt bad when I became poison and won the game. (Emphasis on the word “almost”. I don’t win very often… I relish the times I pull it off). He took his defeat like a man, though. He went outside and chopped down some long grass with a machete. In his flannel shirt, obviously. Because he’s a man.