Lovelihood

During the cooler months, and there were many this year, I often got by with opaque woolen tights to go with my chosen uniform of t-shirt/skirt/boots. Summer changes little about my wardrobe except that my choice of hosiery now reveals a sliver of knee-skin.

Bear is at that age that is, yes, quite terrible at times. A lot of the time. Most of the time, really. But not so terrible that we can't just sit back and laugh at the absurdity that is living with a two-year-old.

Just a quick shot of the monorail on one of many seasonably warm days in Seattle.

It's been a week of running around in the sun, with trips to schools and aquariums and parks and appointments and, of course, work. So we haven't spent any time in our own backyard the past few days. Which is why this little guy, with his questionable web building skills, was afforded the time to splay out his construction on one of our deck chairs and reap its rewards for the better part of a week.

Today, on the countdown of events leading up to The Boy's first day of real school, we met at his new school's playground with other incoming Kindergarteners in a sort of mass-organized playdate hell. Being social comes naturally to noone in this family, except for little Bear who will force her grinning cheeks into the face of every stranger glancing in her direction. But we weathered it well, absorbing new faces and names, finding new allies with whom to poke at bugs and commiserate on the rate of child care.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I've got no aptitude for horticulture. I put things in the dirt. They look pretty for the month that I care enough to water and maintain them. Then they become a sick, brown, tangled mess. On the other hand, I love examining Seattle's many p-patches, even through the more unruly plots with overgrown chard and feral artichokes. Flowers, some wild, some exotic, go unharvested, seemingly seeded just for the sake of growing something in a public spot, nestled between the hip dot-com corridor and the Interstate.

The Boy came home with a sweet thank you card today, payout from that last birthday party he attended. We usually rely on kid-scrawled lettering to achieve that sought-after pre-school chic. This way works, too.