Hello, Green Lantern

It's not funny, Henry.

I recently came across this almost two-year-old video. I'd uploaded it to put on the blog, but somehow never did post it. You might need to turn up the volume to appreciate this one.

It's fun to see how much the kids have changed--and how little the grown-ups have. Just this morning, I told Juniper that it's not funny to mush your peanut butter and banana sandwich onto your face, not long after Aaron told Hazel that it's not funny to jump on our bed after we've already asked you to stop.

Camp Gramps

The girls recently enjoyed a fun week in Charlottesville. While Aaron went into the office each day, the girls had fun days with Gramps. (Meanwhile, I was enjoying a quiet week at home, with lots of reading.)

Hazel on the Charlottesville downtown mall. Her hot pink fanny pack is a new prized possession.

Most of our family hikes include at least a few moments of surly protest at the indignity of walking through nature.

Thankfully, they also involve lots of fun, wonder, and discovery.

And who doesn't love throwing rocks into creeks?



 Bird watching off Gramps and Amala's back porch.

Sue (AKA Amala) wasn't able to take time off to be with the girls during the days, but she did give them the most exciting car ride of their lives.

Her convertible was a big hit!

The girls had a terrific time and were very sad to leave at the end of the week. Juniper was especially devastated; I think this was her first serious goodbye since she became old enough to really know what it means to say goodbye to people you love who live far away. She spent the first 20 minutes of the car ride home sobbing, and finally calmed herself down by drawing a picture to express her sadness. That night at bedtime, she told me that she didn't think her heart is big enough for all the people she loves.

Goodbyes are hard, and living apart from loved ones is hard. We can't do anything to change that fact of our modern, mobile lives, but we are all hoping to make Camp Gramps (and Amala) a summer tradition.

The joys of summer

Mmmnh...ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

Spooning

This photo is almost a year old, but still heart-meltingly sweet. These days we're more likely to find one of them sleeping on the floor to get away from her sister than we are to find them snuggled up together.

Just how high I can fly

Last week, Juniper figured out swinging. When we arrived at the park, she could sort of swing, but not really, and she wanted me to push her. Then something switched, and she just got it, and she could swing. You can hear her delight in her ability to go so high. (Her song, apparently, is adapted from something in the Roald Dahl book The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me. Hazel's song is a great example of the wonderful magpie creations she is up to these days.)

I had promised Juniper I would push her some after she practiced her own swinging, so after taking this video I offered to push her. After just a few pushes, she sent me away so that she could swing on her own some more. There's an exciting achievement--reaching the point where independent swinging is better than being pushed!

Happy Father's Day

Making chocolate-covered orange peels (Aaron's favorite candy) for Father's Day

An important piece of advice for anyone thinking about making these at home: don't drop the cutting board full of wet, chocolaty orange peels when you are picking it up to move it to another room where you can hide it from Dad.

Practically twins

Hazel and Henry in their (self selected) matching haircuts and matching flouncy skirts. They have absolutely no idea that they are flouting convention.

Based on my limited and decidedly non-scientific observations, my theory is that kids start to get gendered clothing sometime between 3-4 years old. In Juniper's 2/3 year old preschool class the boys were just as likely as the girls to play dress-up with tutus, sparkly butterfly wings, and silk scarves. By the time she got to her 4/5 year old class, everyone was still playing with the pirate costumes and firefighters' helmets, but the shimmery, sparkly, sequined things were largely the domain of the girls. No one in our families will tell Hazel and Henry that girls don't get buzz cuts and boys don't wear skirts, but they'll probably get that message anyway. I wonder, is this photo what our world would look like without those messages?