This evening we went to Walmart to look for some items for our upcoming trip to the beach. After striking out, I thought we'd go to Home Depot and get some sturdy buckets for catching fiddler crabs, jellyfish, and whatever other little items we might find at the beach. We got four small plastic paint buckets (I thought the white would be better than the orange for pictures) and headed home. My always entertaining son decided to carry the buckets to the car on his head, which would not have been a problem if he could see where he was going. He conceded temporarily and took them off his head so he could cross the parking lot, but a few minutes later when we were driving, I saw him in the rearview mirror, sitting there serenely, with a bucket on his head as if he wore one every day.
Once we pulled in the driveway, he (somehow) vaulted out of the car and began stalking around the yard like a possessed zombie, calling himself Bucket Man, and reminding me very much of the Black Knight (ala, "it's just a flesh wound") from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."
In between laughs with his sister, I ran in the house to get the camera so I could photograph the elusive Bucket Man for posterity. I'm glad I was able to get these few pictures before he suggested his sister give him the remaining bucket for one of his feet. She was happy to comply, but when he was standing up again, he inadvertently placed his bucket on her flip-flop shod toe, ending all the fun with her howl of pain.
Thanks for the laughs while they lasted, Bucket Man, it's been a tough week.