The Band Plays On

The last few weeks have been full of Summer.

The boys have been swimming and getting comfortable with the water. T has shown us that he's lost his fear of getting his face wet by traveling on his hands from one end of the toddler pool to the next, goggle eyed face submerged, blowing bubbles all the way. Z "The Brute"—although losing swimming privileges to the tune of, "Zip is sitting on a boy and punching him in the face, you need to come pick him up right away!"—is also progressing wildly. He flings himself into the pool, belly-flop style, squirrels about under water, and then sproings to the surface with wild whoops and hollers. They're both still in floaties, but I suspect we'll be graduating them by the end of summer.

We went pseudo-camping a couple of weekends ago, staying with our cousins in their beautifully rustic cabin in the mountains just east of Big Sur along the Arroyo Seco. We parents forgot ourselves and talked 'till two in the morning, but, just four hours later, T was marching around the cabin, crowing, "GET UP! GET UP IT'S MORNING TIME! IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP – GET UP!" That afternoon, with the mercury climbing to 106 °F, we refreshed ourselves in a good old-fashioned swimmin' hole. Having access to a pool is wonderful, and I'm so glad my kids can get in the water regularly, but swimming in a crisp clean river is a magic all of its own. I'm so grateful my kids are getting to experience this at such a young age.

I also turned 37 on the 24th. Rounding the bend towards 40 is leaving me a little cross. There's nothing I can do about it, of course, but my friends and family have been very gracious about it and rallied for me in style. Thanks, guys.

The 4th was celebrated in the All-American Way, with 30+ kids on bikes and scooters parading up and down our street, commencing with a pancake breakfast and a seat on the fire truck. Nothing builds memories like spraying ones neighbors with fire hoses and dancing, sopping wet, on a front lawn dressed in red, white and blue. Then, we went to the park for the requisite concert of mind-numbingly bland 80's covers. The fireworks finally started just when they could barely keep their eyes open. Next morning, I awoke with food poisoning.

Good lord! In a matter of years these kids are going to be teenagers. We've got characters brewing. For the moment, they're put to bed at 8 o'clock and expected to stay there, but, in five more years, our street will be WILD!