Two Smittys in One House

What do you get when you toss two of the Smith clan into one living space?
A little pandemonium, a little hilarity.
Dad has found Cole's ticklish spot to make him sing:

Dear Father always wants to be in the thick of it.  No matter the job.
When I told him that he couldn't help me do any catering because he didn't have a hair net-- look at what Mr. Smarty Pants did.

We made nigiri sushi and norimaki rolls.

Not that foul stuff with raw fish and seaweed!  This is Rice Krispie treats with Gummie fish and fruit rollups.

He needs all those calories for all the painting he's been doing.

It's a messy job working with the oil based paint.  The paint gun unit takes a full hour to clean at night, almost the same amount of time required to scrub down Dad too.

He'd been trucking away on his own, but I pitched in to stay ahead of Picasso and his non discriminating paint gun to minimize collateral damages.

Who'd thunk it?

Don't let his innocent face fool you.

I'm not adverse to a bit of guerrilla warfare myself.  Stray chickens were harassing my hens, so I took 'em out.

And them Dad had to clean his own supper.  

Dad isn't the only guilty party of acts of mischievousness, the dogs upped the ante.
See this lonesome duck on the lake?  I heard Cole yipping and saw the bald eagles circling overhead.  Fearing Cole had caught an eaglet, I dropped my work and ran through the shrubs to the water. 

Cole and two adult bald eagles were after the same duck.

I screeched for him to swim back to shore before they grabbed his head in error. Then we watched them taking turns dive bombing their prey.

I didn't get a chance to see the end of the hunt because Dog #2 was now in peril.  I could hear commotion coming from the pool area.  Garrett had decided to try his hand at walking on water like Jesus.

By the time I arrived, he'd made it to the shallow end, but was engulfed in the plastic solar blanket and water. I jumped in and took this picture when I felt he was out of danger.  This is the second time I've filled my cowboy boots with water to save my dog.  

I am not in despair over the mutiny against me by the above mentioned because there are two in the Smith clan who are busy atoning for their brethren's sins:

My little 20 year old Appaloosa, Axel, hadn't been ridden in 5 years.  I broke him to ride myself 15 years ago.  I hopped on and was immediately transported to heaven.  He hadn't forgotten a thing.  He's still the spitfire I adore!  And on his second ride, he ponied Angus!
Who says you can't teach an old dog a new trick?

Except this one.  This dog does not learn his lessons.  He's wearing the cone of shame this week because he's been licking himself raw again.  This time in a very personal place! Why, Cole??? Why?