I step in a warm pile of something brown and mushy and smear it in a skid as I re-gain my balance. Big Friend and I look with the horror known only to parents of children under the age of four. We play a game of chicken as we stare at the suspicious smoosh. Big Friend breaks first and with a visible revulsion, bends over to smell it. Relief is palpable in his voice: “It’s not poop. Bet it’s just pancake.” I release the breath I’ve been holding and figure it’s safe to stop peering suspiciously at Little One’s diaper.
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In related news, while cleaning up the non-poop pancake mess, Little Friend announces from the playroom, “Mama, if I were a grown-up, I could help you clean up that mess.” I don’t think kind thoughts about the speed of her maturity.
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I’m thankful for summer days and barefoot walks on sidewalks and neighbors who chat with babies balanced on hips under a sky that flares with white heat.
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In further related news, I stepped in yet another brown mushy pile on the dining room floor. Think I was lucky enough to hit pancake two days in a row? Even I could smell the difference this time. I glared at a grinning Little One high tailing it out of the room, naked bum in rapid fire retreat. Naked child. What did I expect? Someone should scold that child’s mother.
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Little Friend announces, “I think I feel like talking in voice with my hedgehog.” So we lay in the semi-dark hotel room and I give voice to a stuffed hedgehog. We of course chat about mushrooms, berries, bears, and foxes, and I grow icicles from the end of my nose from the unaccustomed air conditioned chill.
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Little Friend thinks the plural of “washcloth” is “washclotheses”. She pronounces it “washcyosses”.
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On vacation mornings, I crave coffee and ice cream and sunrise walks on the beach. Most mornings, I make it as far as the coffee.
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My favorite pin of the week for when I’m in a crafty mood.
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My favorite Instagram of the week:
Love, love, love your snippets!!