A Pattern of Words

“Making playdough” (five minutes worth of play for an hour’s worth of cleanup)

It feels like every five minutes either a boy or a puppy is losing their teeth in our house.

To hear Teta T’s dismayed comments as she attempts to fix N’s hair and finger comb the snarls you’d think we don’t even own a brush.

Apparently I accidentally started a tradition. A “let’s make a million chocolate chip cookies every summer” tradition. Not only was I uninformed that this was, in fact, a tradition, but my role was deemed entirely unnecessary beyond the making of the dough and I was asked to “please leave so we could bake them ourselves.” I’m not entirely upset about this.

Once a year, every summer, our four-kid gang grows by one with the addition of our favorite redheaded niece. The first time we did this, P resented being bumped out of his oldest child status. As the years have rolled by, however, his delight has grown as he’s realized the benefits of having someone else not only take over first kid responsibilities, but also willingly teach and play any and all games, activities, and high jinxes. This was the year of magic tricks. A deck of cards seemed to spill from room to room and every few hours someone was asking me to pick a card or watch their hands.

Sizzling hot pavement and girls shrieking joyfully as they leap through the cold sprinkler; the steady drone of cicadas in the background and used popsicle sticks littering the ground near every door: midsummer is officially upon us.

Cousin corn husking party under the patient direction of Teta V

Then and now.