Taking the Gloves Off

Last weekend, the boys and my dad built a mean vegetable garden in our backyard.  Granddad did 105% of the work.  The boys, -5%.  We had two issues.  First, Zach lost his pants.  Second, and more problematic (because, really, isn't gardening while wearing pants a bit overrated?), we only own 2 pairs of gardening gloves.  One of those pairs were being worn by my dad, leaving two other single gloves for three boys to fight over.  And they were willing to fight to the death over those damned gloves.   

So this weekend, Granddad (who, to the boys, is even cooler than Handy Manny, if you can believe it) was visiting again, and this time the project was replacing one of our sprinkler heads.  Another project involving shovels and dirt.  The boys were beside themselves, and couldn't wait to help, and were even more excited because this was an opportunity to wear their brand new, very own pairs of gardening gloves that Grammy had brought especially for them:

I have to hand it to my mom. Her idea prevented another world war. 

A bit later, it occurred to one of the boys that he had seen these gloves somewhere before...  These weren't JUST their special gardening gloves. "These wook wike dentist gwoves too!!!"