Mood swing

We are just back from a few days with the Grandparents Pate. The two huge pecan trees in their backyard (which were mere twigs when they moved into the house when I was Hudson's age) had a bountiful harvest this year, and they needed all the little helpers they could get to gather them up, shell them, and eat them. Thekids all like pecans (which I never did until I grew up and got some sense) though Helena does tend to chew each one for about 20 minutes and then decide she might want to spit it out instead of actually swallowing it. We went to the Tugboat Island park (and saw a real tugboat pushing a barge down the Neches River! The kids barely glanced at it because they were in such a hurry to get to the faux tugboat on the playground.) Then Helena really wanted to swing on the tire swing and thought it important that at least one of the other two join her. They declined, and this was very sad news indeed. She then decided that I was not being very sympathetic to her plight, and she progressed through the five stages of grief. While I showed great sensitivity by taking many pictures: