Four Boys and a Watermelon

I had a dream the other night that I gave the boys a watermelon and nothing else.  If they wanted to eat it, they’d have to figure out a way to open it up.  Sometimes crazy ideas like that are just meant for dreams, it wouldn’t really make any sense to give four small boys a watermelon without slicing it on a cutting board and serving a small piece on a paper plate with napkins and plenty of wet wipes for the clean up afterward.  However, we were throwing caution to the wind yesterday, so we brought that watermelon and I excitedly waited to see what would unfold.
 
Sorry Gavin, cave moms made their little cave boys carry their own watermelons.

They all took turns, but the heavy watermelon had to be set down often.

Which prompted me to take many watermelon beach shots.

After carrying the watermelon about twenty feet, Gavin resorted to rolling.

After trying to lift the watermelon…

Finn decided to roll the watermelon.

Tommy, well Tommy tried kicking the watermelon across the beach.  Unlike the other boys, he didn’t problem solve or try rolling it.  "You know mom, some moms just buy an already cut up one at the grocery store."  I guess is problem solving, just on a different level. 

Soon he got into the spirit and instructed Gavin to wash the watermelon.

And so they did.  Gavin lifted and Tommy scrubbed until it was clean enough for for their liking
.
We picked a spot and the concept was explained.  It went something like this.  You are all cave boys.  You don’t have knives, or cutting boards or plates or wipes.  You only have your bare hands and any other tools you can find in nature.  You are hungry little cave boys and this is all you could find to eat.  So work as a team and try to figure out how to open it up.


I am sad to say that our brains may not have really evolved that much since the cave era.  Gavin really thought this one might work.  After six tries I felt inclined to redirect him.

After several interesting but unsuccessful techniques were exhausted, Tommy introduced the stick.  He was strong enough to crack the shell and that’s all it took.

It was decided that Gavin was the strongest, so he pried at the tiny crack.


Finn provided moral support and encouragement.

Soon we had sweet sweet success.

and the hole grew

The first handful was tasted.  Let me tell you, from experience of course, that a handful of watermelon beats a slice of watermelon any day.

Everyone liked this part.

Petey was a natural, I guess he hasn’t had much practice with forks and knives and linen napkins yet, so he was close to his roots already.

After everyone had their first taste, Gavin declared that the excavating must continue.

Then the “juice dump” was invented.

I guess when digging up to your elbow in a watermelon, it’s easier when you aren’t splashing watermelon juice in your eyes.  Sorry boys, no goggles for cave boys.

So went our afternoon, eating…

and digging…

and eating…

and digging…

and dumping juice…

and eating…

with our eyes closed…

and letting sweet watermelon juice drip down our golden brown bellies (well, their golden brown bellies, mine’s well, this is not the blog to share the sad state of affairs that is my belly)

Some solo juice dumping…

and lots of cavey teamwork…

and lots of watermelon photos taken with one very sticky Canon Rebel.  Although, I picked up a good technique in nursing school.  When you do certain sterile medical procedures, you have one clean hand and one dirty hand.  I keep my right hand clean and dry for working the camera, but I can do just about anything with my dirty left hand.  I can wipe a runny nose, get sand out of your eye, help you turn on the outdoor shower, or hold you sticky little hand to help you off the table.  Certain emergencies do require two hands however, hence the sticky camera I am dealing with today.

With swollen little brown bellies, the official cave men declared they were all done.  One by one they headed for the shower, except Tommy who insisted I put the watermelon shell on his head for a watermelon helmet.  I considered it, but when I sized it up I realized that the hole was a bad size.  I could picture the shell slipping down over his face and smothering him and me trying to primitively crack open the watermelon helmet with a large rock while on Tommy’s head.  This was enough to make me suggest a watermelon boot instead. 

Next we jumped back to 2010 and took advantage of the beach showers. 
By the time we were clean, we had clogged the drain with pink watermelon flesh.  I was about to throw the remaining watermelon in the garbage when Tommy asked, “Did cave people have garbages?” 
      

Nope, they left their scraps for the dinosaurs and so I heaved our watermelon into the bushes.