A Pattern of Words

They follow me out to the porch in the mornings, barely awake but determined nevertheless not to miss out on a single interesting thing I might or might not be doing.

Gus, or Sir Gussius as he is known to friends and family, is the chill one. The one watching Finley with both curiosity and an edge of distain, rather like a scientist observing a particularly dumb specimen. “And the large furry beast is now drooling copiously. Later he will chew up a book and go outside to poop again, completely oblivious to the nice, dry litter box the rest of us use.”

Long summer nights and late bedtimes mean that – for possibly the first time ever – my kids are sleeping in till about 8:30. It’s glorious.

I promised them a treat for running endless and boring errands with me and they chose this little $2 sand art making kit from Target. I forgot how much I loved making these as a kid.

We kept asking each other “Is it time to wrap up? Should the kids be in bed already? Or should we pour another glass of wine?” and the kids were happy and the night was beautiful and the fireflies were dancing and the conversation was good, so nobody stood up and the kids told each other spooky stories around a faux bonfire and it was a perfect night.

Everyone is so excited to pet Finley Flash that we have to be careful about not letting all the kids be around him at the same time. He loves the attention, but then promptly falls into an exhausted multi-hour nap after any kid playdate.

Cassio isn’t very happy about having a new furry, four-footed sibling and was desperate for attention when I visited her upstairs. I’ve never actually seen her so excited to see me.

My stubborn, little, sous chef. I’m often guilty of trying to shoo children out of the kitchen when I’m prepping dinner. This 100 year old kitchen isn’t the most child friendly and my prep space is fairly minimal…I’m also just bad about planning out dinner and am often tossing things together last minute. But E refuses to be dissuaded. She hangs around, asking questions, making comments and begging to help. She even noticed me grabbing cloves of garlic and immediately ran to grab the garlic press, announcing that I’d need that next. How can one say no to such persistence?

Welcome to the family, Finley Flash!

Contemplating life instead of cleaning. Typical.