Friday, September 23, 2016

Summer's End

Recently I spent a few moments going through the heap of papers piled high on our china cupboard.  I emptied the drawer of its contents - dozens of halfway drawings and penciled scribbles.  Little mounts of scissor clippings with crumpled and chewed up paper.  I put most of them in the recycling bin.  For a winter stint Naomi drew and designed napkins which were small rectangles colored in various ways.  I kept a sheet of those.  Not much time has passed and the heap of papers has mounted again.  Naomi brought home a crow's nest made out of a paper plate with these foam eggs that I keep kicking around the floor.  And yesterday she brought home a small book that she made at school with a tiny drawing on each of the first few pages.  She told me I may not like it.  I told her that I certainly did and wondered why she might think I wouldn't.  Maybe because of the complaints I registered about her bird's nest and eggs?

Verity keeps squirting my nice handsoap into the bath water.  And then she squirts the hand lotion in there as well.  This tries my patience very much.  If you can read between the lines I think you would agree that this is not worth yelling about.  I told her it was my soap and my lotion.  And she disagreed.  Don't get into an argument with your 3 year old.

But, DO go into Lush next time you can and buy a bath bomb for your child or yourself.  Cheap thrills.  It cures all ills, truly I tell you.

The first morning I had to myself, with Abel, after school drop offs, I made cookies while he slept.  I added one too many scoops of sugar accidentally and burnt two batches.  Today I'm trying again with a recipe for Saffron-Vanilla Snickerdoodles I found on Heidy Swanson's beautiful blog.

I told Naomi to make sure she brought back her book to school so she could finish it.  And she told me that she needed to finish it at home.  Why can't she finish it at school?  It seemed like the perfect piece of work to pick back up during the next "choice time."  Hurry up, keep moving, on to the next, grumble grumble.  But this one I'll keep.

Last day of summer.

1 comment:

  1. These musings are delightful. All in a days work.