Ball

"Bah! BAH! BAH!!!", Arlo exclaims while walking chubbily {quit it spell check...that's a good word...i should know, i invented it} towards the ball I hold in my hands. I think that at that very moment I might melt into a giant puddle of mummy-mush. His excitement. Determination. Cubbily-ness. All of it put together in pure Arlo fashion as I witness him feasting on a football, race car ball, plastic ball, foam ball, soccer ball, nubby ball, dog ball...any bah, just as long as it's a bah fills me with hap-hap-happiness.Mush. I just m
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xo

The Cottage Mix

You see, technology and cottage are not supposed to and therefore, do not mix. Memories of my brother wrapping aluminum foil around the antennas of our tiny black and white cottage television so that we could watch a fuzzy episode of Three's Company were all too near as I patiently awaited for our cottage computer to connect to this space. I'm not sure how long one is supposed to wait for cottage technology...certainly longer than the citified variety...but I just really didn't have it in me. Sorry for the hiccup in posts.
However, upon our arrival home and sifting through our photographs from last week, I have made an obvious discovery. Do you know what is the perfect cottage mix? A gin & tonic. No, no, no...well actually, yes...but no. The perfect partner, the most magical mix for cottage is family. Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, Uncles, Sons and Daughter unite...a family learning, laughing and loving at the cottage.
{Dream come true! Hugh does nails!}Although we are home now, in just a couple of days we will return where swimming lessons and running races await. I will give the ol' cottage technology another go...but if you don't hear from us in awhile, never fear...we'll be back.
xo

Good News. Hugh Is Finally Asleep!

This was meant be an update about Grassman.About how we awoke this morning to find our pet breathing. I was sure to also inform how well he was walking. Maybe even...lucid. Perhaps I might also add how we gave him a new home filled with grass, lavender and basil leaves because upon further thought, our grasshopper prefers a menu shared by herbivores. And then most likely, my its-a-grasshopper-miracle-post would screech to a climatic end with Grassman's surprising demise....as I sadly detailed how Hugh accidentally dropped him...and may or may not have stepped on him too.

But this was not to be...because my focus tonight is not on our beloved grasshopper hopping in grass heaven. No. No. My mind is consumed by Hugh's unbelievable, impressive, almost admirable tactics for warding off bedtime. He should write a '101 Clever Reasons Not To Go To Bed...Ever' book. Or travel around the globe giving motivational 'Don't Sleep' speeches to an audience filled with children. However, when the panicked thought of, "He will never, never, never, never-ever fall asleep again!" enters in to our minds....we find him silently, diagonally and peacefully asleep. On the floor. xo

Family Pet

Today a grasshopper hopped into the depths of our shallow green pool. Luckily Hugh was standing nearby. "It's a real rescue mission!" he shouted as he splashed and dunked the insect before lifting him gently onto the palm of his hand. Hugh decided the lawn would be the best place for a grasshopper to recover from a near drowning accident. Yes, grass. Grasshopper. Grass. Sounded logical to us. We watched over our new friend as he stood in the blades of recovery. Not that I am terribly pessimistic, but...well, I was pretty sure Grassman {his Hugh-given-name} was...well, sleeping...as in forever. But each gentle poke with a stick proved me wrong. It was then decided that Grassman needed some food to help him regain his strength. "What do grasshoppers eat?" Hugh asked. I didn't have a clue. Grass? No wait. Do they eat the grass or live in the grass? Insects? Bugs? Ants? Whoa. Are insects and bugs the same thing? What category does the ant fall in? Oh my gosh. What's wrong with me...I can't even answer this somewhat simple 4 year old question. I curse you art school! I took a deep breath and said "Grass, insects, bugs and ants." And so...we collected exactly, one ant, one rolly-polly bug {named by yours truly}, one insect-y looking thing and a pile of freshly picked grass. Although Grassman hasn't touched any of his food assortment {minus the grass which also is serving as his 'nest' on Hugh's window sill}, he is miraculously still alive. I have a feeling tomorrow we may be looking for a matchbox to bury our dear friend in...eeks, guess I am a pessimist...but for now, we'll call him our new family pet.

And resume...

Ahem. It's been awhile.
Today I knocked the cobwebs off of this space and am very happy to return...afresh. Mostly my writing time comes after the boys are tucked away in dreamland...but as of late, one boy who we lovingly call Hugh, is on bedtime strike. The dreaded picketing begins at 7pm and ends around 11pm. It produces gentle growls from all involved leaving us completely and utterly spent.
I've missed my regular reflections here...it feels good to step in again all the while Hugh is striking away from the other room. Ah...Kid's Unions...the worst kind.
Hugh and Miles officially graduated from nursery school. Their grand exit involved an octopus costume and a very loudly rendition of Slippery Fish. The performance led me to believe that all graduations...big and small...should somehow include sea creatures as it really lends to the overall experience.Arlo has taken to carrying a suitcase just about everywhere we go. I think it's terribly stylish and couldn't be prouder. "Why is he carrying that?" a stranger will ask. "I don't know." I reply, "I think he's going somewhere...or selling something!" It's beautiful...very 1940's travelling salesman. We spent last week at the cottage where we ate freshly picked raspberries, sugar-snap peas {sorry Mrs. Scribbin's garden...surely you won't notice?}, homemade ice cream and all of Nana's home cooking! Although we are home now...in just a few short days...we will return to our summer oasis. And finally, Hugh and Arlo would like to send silent fireworks {the loud variety do not mix well with Hugh's ears} to all of our friends and family celebrating in the good ol' U.S. of A. It's good to back...now, go to bed Hugh!!!!!!!
xo