almost easter

Today we had our best mr. b.g. for the day. He was lively. He's learning to crawl, did a terrible face plant on the living room rug. UGH! You know that sound when the little head hits the floor, sounds like someone dropped a pumpkin? Yeah, that sound. (It's an old pretty area rug, but unpadded.) He cried and cried and cried until his nose quit hurting. That was so bad.

But later he took a fine nap outside in the sun. My sister and I were enjoying sunshine on the patio, and he just got sooo tired while we rocked in the swing.

In the sun we inspected his nose and eye and thought maybe it was bruised. He's so pale and translucent it's hard to tell. Then later Dan said he'd bruised it yesterday on HIS watch. Good enough, then.

Speaking of her, this is my sister playing with b.g. Not only is she good to my entire family, this now extends to my grandchildren too. She took off his socks and put him through one or two Jane Fonda exercises. He laughed.




So we're going to her house for Easter because this is her holiday.

She informs me she's bought a pinata. What a pinata has to do with Norwegian Lutherans and Easter we do not know, but the last time she had a pinata (years), b.g.'s DAD was instrumental in cracking it open and then threw his long, adolescent body over all the candy, creating a bawling, screaming crisis among the younger kids and little cousins.

He's grown up now and pretty dignified-like, so we can probably trust him. PLUS, turns out he has to be at his in-laws this year, so he won't even actually be there. In spirit, perhaps.

Tonight we've got a house full of teenage girls sleeping over. Maria went to school for the first time last fall and has had a pretty good year, cross-country and track, good grades and a few friends.

I'm always interested to see who they choose for friends, who they bring home here.... (I have heard, and don't know if this is true or not... probably it's a bit more complicated than this...) but kids choose friends they see as being like themselves? Well, these girls are like all the kids' other friends: Nerdy Normal. Easy to like.

And we also have r.t. sleeping over. He's James' best friend. From the first day they met, they were buddies. They talk on the phone and say, "Dude," a lot.

I'm no kid magnet. I mean, kids like me fine, but are definitely not drawn to me. But r.t. was always friendly and warm.

One fall afternoon when I went to pick him up after school, we arrived ahead of the bus, and had to wait a few minutes. I can still picture him now, off the bus at age 8, running through a blanket of fall leaves, orange coat blowing open, viola case banging against his legs, yelling, "VAAAL!" Irresistible.


two fishermen back in the days of the squeaky laugh

Tonight though he was at the door and I didn't have my glasses on and didn't recognize him. Whoever was standing at the door was tall. He's grown tall! How did I miss that? His voice is so deep now, he's lost his squeaky laugh. I loved that squeaky laugh. We could hear it ringing everywhere in the house.

Okay, that's the end. My bathwater is getting cold. Onward to Thursday. love, Val