Popsicles. Sunburn. Fresh fruit that isn't apples or oranges, like cantaloupe. Drinking from the hose. Spraying your sister with the hose. Spraying the hose into the house. Your mom yelling at you for spraying the hose into the house. Never having to wear footwear, but if you must, let it be one oversized sock pulled all the way up to your knee (Tess). Reading books on the lawn. The yummy smell of warm, wet concrete. (Why does warm, wet concrete smell so wonderful?!) Summmmmmmer....
Is it really a day of rest? Since DJ's been in Dallas for the last three or so weeks, I've developed a new respect for single parents who attend Sacrament meeting with their children. For our family, it's kind of a three-ring circus act. In one ring you have Macey and Olivia elbowing each other, coloring, and talking to their friend Megan in the pew behind us. In the next ring you have Chancho asking in his outside (outside and on a rollercoaster) voice if I will make a paper airplane for him while simultaneously stealing Tess's Cheerios and spilling the crayons everywhere. In our final ring we have Tess, who wants to be held only as long as I allow her to repeatedly bang her cabeza into my clavicle. If she is not being held, her activities of choice include ripping pages from the hymnal and yelling nonsense words.
This performance goes on for an hour and ten minutes and is followed by two hours of me entertaining six Sunbeams one-woman-band-style.
That's a lot of numbers and what they all add up to is obviously the church is true. Why else would a sane person do that to herself every Sunday?
She's going through a running away phase. If the door opens she's off like a rocket and I have to pull her out of our neighbors' trees. I'm trying not to let it hurt my feelings.