The giraffe hole

Uncle Brett is in town this week and although the boys don't get to see him very much, they warmed up to him immediately.

Shortly after he got to our house yesterday, Trevin pointed out to him that we had a couch, then went to the staircase and said "We have stairs." Pretty important information, really.

But the most important information was shared this morning, as Brett was arriving at our house and Trevin was answering the door. His welcoming words to his uncle were...

"My daddy was throwing balls at my giraffe hole."  

Umm...right.

Before I let your imagination run wild, let me explain.

You see, this is the giraffe hole:

It became known, to Trevin, as the giraffe hole because before we borrowed it from my in-laws, he had seen Madagascar 2, in which the giraffes in the movie have no doctor so when they get sick, they go to the "giraffe hole" or quicksand to die...okay, I have not seen this movie, but who let my kid watch that?? Suddenly, giraffe hole sounds completely wrong...

Anyway, so there's the giraffe hole and the balls my hubby was throwing into it were tiny basketballs, soccer balls, and footballs.

There. No imagination necessary.