Lovelihood

Some days, the only picture I manage to snap is of a blurry child in an Indiana Jones fedora, trying to pass as a pirate with a tambourine. Some days, that's enough.

We stepped out the door on our morning walk to school in briefest of moments between rain events, and instead of hustling up the hill, heads lowered under our hoods, we were able to idle by our spring-fresh bulbs, discovering their floral-sweet scents that stuck with us even as the sky opened up and started to rain down again.

To complete the post-it wallet project, I needed a couple of stubby pencils. Short of buying a big box of golf pencils or grabbing a couple from The Boy's school library, I have no source for stubby pencils. And I'm pretty much opposed to having a a gross of anything on hand, and also to stealing from schools. Which pretty much leaves subjecting two fresh pencils to that old-school sharpener attached to the banister upstairs (still don't know why it's there, but it's come in handy, so I'll stop asking).

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.