Lovelihood

Last night's egg painting, and the scrap paper laid underneath, was left overnight to dry. I'm unsure which I like more.

One day, I'm sure, the kids will have an interest in beautifying things like their rooms, their hair and their papier mache eggs. For now, it seems enough to just ply their subjects with as much wet-sticky mess as can be born.

I'm stealing a page from my Valentine playbook and stitching up some felt goodies for the kids' easter baskets. Little Peeps-esque bunnies stuffed with fabric odds'n'ends (no big dent made in that stash here), and felty-eggy pockets, which, now that I'm looking at them, I designed to be more oval than ovate. But, stuffed with gummies and candies (which Bear assures me daily that she likes), I'm sure I'll hear no complaints.

The Boy's chosen medium for written communication is post-it notes scrawled up with Kindergarten spelling and distributed to relevant parties. I thought I'd whip him up a post-it wallet for his easter basket to keep his tools close at hand.

I had a couple dozen downtown minutes to myself waiting for the opportunity to chaperone preschoolers to a Ye Olde Shoppe of buggy things sort of place. And for entertainment I had a just-finished book and my phone, which, with its camera and games and internet-trawling capabilities, takes care of all my low-brow diversional needs.

If salad salads were as pretty as fruit salads, I might be tempted to eat them more.

Legos, in their natural state. Other times, they're cascading out of backpack pockets or getting knocked around by unsuspecting feet or assembled into towering weaponizations. But mostly, they can be found in a pile, waiting to be put away.