One Potato, Two Potato

Sometimes simple is best.

We went off to see friends in the country recently. It was really rural, as in their house sits on something like eight acres. Aside from Legos, our five collected children found lots of things to do: chase after their dog, play paintball in the woods, and gather beautiful Araucana eggs from the chicken coop each morning and afternoon.

What most amused me, though, was playing with a bizarre contraption involving large PVC piping attached to an air compressor at one end. Our host, Jeff, announced his work of art: the Potato Cannon.

Say what?

I'd never heard of such a thing.

The Potato Cannon, I soon learned, is a wildly fun form of entertainment. It works like this: You shove a potato (any kind will do) into the top of the pipe. You close off the valve in the middle of the tube, turn on the air compressor, and let the pressure build up in the base. Then you open the valve and the potato goes flying.

Far.

Yes, this thing could definitely take an eye out.

The kids hooted wildly as if they'd just seen Santa.  We all joked: This is what happens when you live in the country. You make your own fun, even if that involves projectile root vegetables.

It's a lesson I seem to need to learn time and time again. This summer, my children rigged up a simple contraption in our maple tree. My son threw rope over a few of the branches, tied a bucket on one end, and created a pulley system to hoist up all sorts of interesting things: pinecones, dirt, water balloons. With a bungee cord, he made a slingshot to fling the junk all over the front yard and often, onto his sister's head. Then he tied a thick stick to another rope to make a swing. Once I made sure all the kids had bike helmets on and our homeowner's policy was up to date, they had at it.

That silly rope became the star attraction of the neighborhood. Did any of the kids who flocked to our house want to play with the expensive climbing structure -- complete with swings and a clubhouse -- in our backyard? Not a chance. The tree and the rope were all they needed for hours and hours of fun. It lasted all summer.

As I'm running around getting ready for Christmas now, I'm trying to remind myself that the same rules should apply.

At my son's first two holidays, he was much more interested in wrapping paper and tissue than by the gifts that were wrapped inside them. A year or two later, his favorite gift turned out to be a $5 firetruck toothbrush. Really. It was a toothbrush he loved most out of everything under the tree.

Sometimes it seems like there's an inverse proportion between cost and enjoyment. Less is more.

So that's it, then.

My children are getting a nice coil of rope for Christmas.

Maybe even a bag of russet potatoes if they're lucky.