Except without the glowing skin and perfectly styled hair. Gee, it's a great time to be alive!
When not crying over, well, Earth, we've been doing day-to-day type things. Nice things. Things I like. Such as having long, involved conversations about toast. This is one of the great things about having a five year old.
We can stumble downstairs, sleepy-eyed, and sit on the kitchen floor with a loaf of bread and discuss the magic of melting butter and strawberry preserves on toast. Not everyone will do these things with me, you know.
Then we admire the beauty to be found in eggs. Yes, eggs. I have never claimed to lead a life fraught with adventure and intrigue. Eggs do just fine for me. Big ol' thanks to Derek's parents for being such good sharers.
Speaking of beauty:
These plants are all over our local public garden right now, just for me. Well, me and whomever else just loves striped, striated leaves, which is surely everyone, right?
Thousands of species of flowers and plants for our children's viewing pleasure, and what do they do when we visit the gardens?
They jump off the temporary wooden structure- and not the front, which is supposed to be explored and climbed on, but the back, where you discover which planks are coming loose and beginning to swivel alarmingly under the weight of your offspring.
"Ninja training," they call it. "Future broken limbs," I holler at them from my comfortable bench in the shade of some nearby trees while taking pictures of them engaging in risky behavior.
Some refer to this as natural consequences parenting. I think of it more in terms of "How much can I wear them out before bedtime?"
For the (child protective services) record, no one broke any bones, and I drained their batteries as low as I dared knowing we had yet to eat supper.