A day of sunshine and friendly breezes! Of tulips...
... and apple blossoms!
A day of continued thoughts in the matter of the sandbox.
Perhaps I let my feelings take hold too much in our discussions. My guess is that it all dates back to my own childhood.
Way back then, I was such a tomboy! By age twelve, I loved nothing more than to put on my "dungarees" and take my skateboard out on the sidewalks of New York. When I learned we were returning to Poland the next year, I saved up to buy myself something I knew I could never find in Poland -- a baseball mitt. I can still smell that leather and feel the pleasure of putting the damn thing on.
Oh, I learned quickly enough that boys didn't chase tomboys and so when I returned to Poland and joined my high school class, I tried, really tried to become more of a girlie girl.
My own daughters (and I hope they're okay with my saying this) were more balanced growing up. They had a sandbox and to the best of my recollection, they ignored it. But Snowdrop has her own agenda. She loves playing in the sand. And I'm thinking -- is sand like a skateboard for her? (I smiled when I heard that Snowdrop loved the skateboards at the home of family friends who had between them four little boys.)
Or maybe it's just that I am an internet junkie like the rest of America and when someone shows me exciting outdoor gear for toddlers, I succumb and reach for my credit card?
Breakfast, this time with more smiles than sulks. (I caved. We'll send back the gorgeous sandbox and play structure ordered from Home Depot. I'm definitely the caver of the two of us. I can't stand the pained look on the face of the opposition. I'd make a terrible legislator.)
So if not the sandbox with the adorable play structure next to it (made of fine Austrian pine, beautifully finished so both child and grandma can enjoy it), then what?
I'll build you something.
Loudly: thank you. Quietly: it wont be half as nice...
But it's a good thing that we have moved beyond the sulks because within minutes, I need Ed's help with something far more pressing than a sandbox: I set out to work outside in the flower beds and immediately manage to throw my back out. [Odd expression, don't you think? I threw it out, but could find no suitable replacement!]
I haven't done this in several years and so perhaps I'd gotten a little too sanguine about doing physical work of a demanding nature. But honestly, I was just twisting and turning, scraping dirt and fitting in a new flower and boom! One little wrong move and I have bought myself many days of pain.
Ed!
To my knowledge, there is little one can do until the pulled muscle relaxes and mends. Aleve pills, sure: they take the edge off. And back support. I cant sit without it. And initially -- not a whole lot of bending, because once you get down, you may not be able to get back up.
I'll help you with Snowdrop -- he reassures me. For once, his confidence in handling an active two year old sounds wonderful.
And so this is how Snowdrop had the both of us show up as school to pick her up (she herself had had an unfortunate tumble at school! what a day! Remembered by great things and too, for life's tumbles). She was one happy child! The more family, the better, as far as she's concerned.
Snowdrop can get herself into the stroller, but getting out is trickier. Too, hoisting her anywhere at all, including into the car seat is, right now, an impossible task for me. And so Ed does the lifting and I tag along for the ride.
The three of us go to the neighborhood playground by the lesser lake. Of course we do! It's gorgeous outside! And Snowdrop is thrilled to have ahah push her on the swings.
She likes to go high...
Not that high!
And they climb the life guard tower together...
And then, you guessed it -- they settle in to build castles in the sand.
Actually, Snowdrop first wants to fashion a sheep shed...
(It's hard work! Off goes the jacket...)
She then decides that it should be her very own car. In she goes.
It is a wonderful hour of play!
At the farmette again, she eyes the creeping phlox.
Okay, Snowdrop, you can pick that flower. I mean, I'm reasonable. (And of course, there are hundreds of buds!)
Hey, just one, not a handful!
And after her nap she plays with ahah again. Ball games. How curious that when she initiates ball games, she always asks for Ed!
In the evening, her mommy comes to take her home. The young family is going out tonight and Snowdrop changes from her sandy play stained clothes. She tells me again and again that she now prefers short sleeves (remembering our discussion some weeks back when she refused to take off a sweater because it felt, well, too bare)! I'm so proud of that kid!
On with your shoes, little one. Your mommy has a lot before her tonight!
As for my big push this weekend for me to finish planting -- well, maybe it will be a little push, or maybe no push at all. I suppose there are worse things in life than sitting on the porch in heavenly May weather and looking out at a blooming set of trees, whose fragrance, mixed with the lilac, is so strong that it drifts all the way to me on the porch as I sway in a chair, forgetting everything except how really lovely it all can be.
... and apple blossoms!
A day of continued thoughts in the matter of the sandbox.
Perhaps I let my feelings take hold too much in our discussions. My guess is that it all dates back to my own childhood.
Way back then, I was such a tomboy! By age twelve, I loved nothing more than to put on my "dungarees" and take my skateboard out on the sidewalks of New York. When I learned we were returning to Poland the next year, I saved up to buy myself something I knew I could never find in Poland -- a baseball mitt. I can still smell that leather and feel the pleasure of putting the damn thing on.
Oh, I learned quickly enough that boys didn't chase tomboys and so when I returned to Poland and joined my high school class, I tried, really tried to become more of a girlie girl.
My own daughters (and I hope they're okay with my saying this) were more balanced growing up. They had a sandbox and to the best of my recollection, they ignored it. But Snowdrop has her own agenda. She loves playing in the sand. And I'm thinking -- is sand like a skateboard for her? (I smiled when I heard that Snowdrop loved the skateboards at the home of family friends who had between them four little boys.)
Or maybe it's just that I am an internet junkie like the rest of America and when someone shows me exciting outdoor gear for toddlers, I succumb and reach for my credit card?
Breakfast, this time with more smiles than sulks. (I caved. We'll send back the gorgeous sandbox and play structure ordered from Home Depot. I'm definitely the caver of the two of us. I can't stand the pained look on the face of the opposition. I'd make a terrible legislator.)
So if not the sandbox with the adorable play structure next to it (made of fine Austrian pine, beautifully finished so both child and grandma can enjoy it), then what?
I'll build you something.
Loudly: thank you. Quietly: it wont be half as nice...
But it's a good thing that we have moved beyond the sulks because within minutes, I need Ed's help with something far more pressing than a sandbox: I set out to work outside in the flower beds and immediately manage to throw my back out. [Odd expression, don't you think? I threw it out, but could find no suitable replacement!]
I haven't done this in several years and so perhaps I'd gotten a little too sanguine about doing physical work of a demanding nature. But honestly, I was just twisting and turning, scraping dirt and fitting in a new flower and boom! One little wrong move and I have bought myself many days of pain.
Ed!
To my knowledge, there is little one can do until the pulled muscle relaxes and mends. Aleve pills, sure: they take the edge off. And back support. I cant sit without it. And initially -- not a whole lot of bending, because once you get down, you may not be able to get back up.
I'll help you with Snowdrop -- he reassures me. For once, his confidence in handling an active two year old sounds wonderful.
And so this is how Snowdrop had the both of us show up as school to pick her up (she herself had had an unfortunate tumble at school! what a day! Remembered by great things and too, for life's tumbles). She was one happy child! The more family, the better, as far as she's concerned.
Snowdrop can get herself into the stroller, but getting out is trickier. Too, hoisting her anywhere at all, including into the car seat is, right now, an impossible task for me. And so Ed does the lifting and I tag along for the ride.
The three of us go to the neighborhood playground by the lesser lake. Of course we do! It's gorgeous outside! And Snowdrop is thrilled to have ahah push her on the swings.
She likes to go high...
Not that high!
And they climb the life guard tower together...
And then, you guessed it -- they settle in to build castles in the sand.
Actually, Snowdrop first wants to fashion a sheep shed...
(It's hard work! Off goes the jacket...)
She then decides that it should be her very own car. In she goes.
It is a wonderful hour of play!
At the farmette again, she eyes the creeping phlox.
Okay, Snowdrop, you can pick that flower. I mean, I'm reasonable. (And of course, there are hundreds of buds!)
Hey, just one, not a handful!
And after her nap she plays with ahah again. Ball games. How curious that when she initiates ball games, she always asks for Ed!
In the evening, her mommy comes to take her home. The young family is going out tonight and Snowdrop changes from her sandy play stained clothes. She tells me again and again that she now prefers short sleeves (remembering our discussion some weeks back when she refused to take off a sweater because it felt, well, too bare)! I'm so proud of that kid!
On with your shoes, little one. Your mommy has a lot before her tonight!
As for my big push this weekend for me to finish planting -- well, maybe it will be a little push, or maybe no push at all. I suppose there are worse things in life than sitting on the porch in heavenly May weather and looking out at a blooming set of trees, whose fragrance, mixed with the lilac, is so strong that it drifts all the way to me on the porch as I sway in a chair, forgetting everything except how really lovely it all can be.
