A Pattern of Words

I shall entitle this one, “Miserable child forced to go on family outing.”

We solemnly swear we shall never ever force our families to go pumpkin picking again when the forecast is above eighty degrees.

It’s a new, favorite trend for N to make little signs signaling whatever she is excited about (guessing this is what comes from taking kids to protests?! This particular sign was in jubilation of going pumpkin picking soon). Sign plus bouncing rainbows from my window crystal = a dance party in the kitchen.

I looked outside and they had made their own kites and were running up and down all the front yards, attempting wildly to get them to fly in the blustery wind. They weren’t successful, but that didn’t slow them down a bit.

Breakfast negotiations.

Three generations of S’s.

Outdoor explorations in decidedly un-October-ish weather.

Plotting and scheming their next big Lego purchase.

Teta T gave her a hand-me-down rabbit sweater and it thrilled her to no end. Much bunny hopping ensued.

V wanted to take Dadu for a drive through the mountains, but that attempt failed when he made multiple wrong turns that dumped him out onto a very unattractive highway. I suggested we go up to MM instead and the kids were thrilled for the chance to play in one of their favorite playgrounds.