Snapshots of 24 hours of summer

Sunday was little London's blessing day at church. She wore a dress that was worn by both her mother and her grandma, which is a worthy tradition. Charlie's blessing of his daughter was short and sweet, which would have been appreciated by his Grandpa Tom.

Family showed up in full force.

Overheard last night during the aftermath of a family spaghetti feed:
Nana, where did you get this game?
Where do you think I got this game, Josh?
At a garage sale!

Every time the grands have asked me lately where I got something, the answer is the same. 
They are starting to get the picture!

The husband grumbled about not needing more games as he loaded his car for the trip back to Central Oregon last night. 
But it is an awesome game, and it was unopened and only a dollar. It's called The Way Things Work, based on David Macaulay's book. Josh and Thomy loved it, even though they are way younger than the suggested age, and I love that it teaches scientific principles.

Little Jeff decided he didn't want dinner, and was okay with giving up his ice cream treat as a result.

Until it was time to go home, then suddenly he wanted to eat his dinner.

But alas, he bounced between crying and sitting-but-not-eating until parental patience was lost and he was carted unceremoniously out of the door.

(Dinner was not that bad, by the way!)

An hour-or-so later the phone rang.

Hello.

Hi Nana. Do you think you could save my dinner and I will eat it next time I am over?

Um, sorry Jeff, but I threw it away already.

Silence....

Nana, could I have an ice cream next time I come over?

(Nana trying not to laugh out loud).

Well Jeff, you can have an ice cream but you will have to earn it. You can do a job for me and then you can have an ice cream, okay?

Okay, Nana.

Too cute.

Josh and Natalie ending up spending the night unexpectedly, so we started the morning with a three-mile Nana-walking-and-kids-scootering outing that was way too early considering I hadn't slept much since 3am. The kids are dressed in a mixture of pyjamas and swimsuits, which is all I had on hand. After I finished piano lessons for the day, we picked up Thomy and Jeff and went to Buckley Park, a small neighbourhood park that has a most splendiferous ditch running through it. I sat on the bank, alternately reading Michael Pollan's new book and watching graceful monarch butterflies and brilliant red dragonflies swooping over the water, while the kids gradually shed their shoes and socks and got muddy. They were hunting tadpoles, but only managed to catch a dragonfly and some other water critter. We examined the dragonfly and then let it go, but the other critter was taken home to the scientist.

As I sat watching the three little boys and the girl having the time of their lives in a muddy creek and with only a plastic box for props, I couldn't help but remember summers of my childhood. We played in the fields, picked wildflowers, jumped ditches, tunneled through fields of wheat, climbed haystacks, and rode our bikes through days that seemed endless. No one organized our time or filled our days with activity, and we were as happy as puppies in a field of fire hydrants. I am as guilty as anyone of organizing activities, but it did my heart good today to see those littles playing with such innocence and gusto in a ditch.

I could use more of this kind of summer.