off to a rocky start after our three year old
minivan’s engine blew up
we drove it, unfixable
smoking into our driveway
Mama, maybe it needs training wheels?
luckily we live on an island
could be worse, as all things can.
Friday’s night: restaurant on a cliff
foie gras, wine, espresso, apple pie
prose, poetry, pens, paper
then, dark bar
stool-side eavesdropping, medal-worthy
a Saturday spent
raingear-clad for photography
in fleece, napping
an evening with friends, tacos
10 pm, just right for cookies
homemade chocolate chip
laughing at antics of overtired children
footie pajama goodbyes in doorway
midnight, all our babes asleep…actually
all three girls sleeping over on our bedroom floor
firstborn coughing all night, 2 am
me: Are you ok? You’re coughing a lot.
Betty: It’s laughter. My laughter comes out of my body as sickness when I sleep.
Oh, the things said in sleep.
five tucked in under feathers, quilts,
drizzle on the windows, bacon on the stove
knock knock jokes, French toast
Lite-Brite with the shades drawn
scooters, rainy day skate park
all before the very best part:
the middle one without training wheels,
all smiles, pride
bangs and giggles.
as always, joining Amanda for Weekending