Can you hear the popping?
This is the corner of the kitchen that defeats me. I can spend all afternoon clearing the clutter, and the next day, it is covered again. I see this, and I want to curl up in my room with a Jane Austen novel. Forever.
I went outside to hang M’s laundry on the clothesrack, and the aroma of roses assaulted me. In the best possible way.
This is the new-and-improved sandbox my husband built while I was at my conference in April. Notice the sand scattered throughout the yard. Notice how sturdy the sandbox is. Notice the grass growing in it, because the children thought it would be fun to "cook" with birdseed in the sandbox. Notice the rabbit (at the farthest end, in front of the soccer ball) snacking on the grass in the sandbox. I ought to be grateful it’s not a cat, right?
This is SweetP, almost 8 months old, with a tiny nubbin of a tooth (invisible here). She’s ecstatic that she can now pull up on things… and crawl… and chase the cat… and destroy Lego creations… and chew on the side of the laundry basket…