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Summertime
Isn’t it a nice day to play…CROQUET!? When I look at these pictures, I feel like I’m writing a parody post for stuff white people like. I’m sure you can play this game in the inner city too (if you can find some grass to stick your little hoopty-hoop thingys in) but whenever I think of croquet, I always think of stuffy white people wearing summer sweaters and sipping lemonade on the lawn.
Which is why we were playing it at Whoorl’s house!
Just kidding! Whoorl is a hoot, as I’m sure you know. There is nothing stuffy about her. I want to move to her street. There are three or four houses that have lush green lawns butting up to each other and when the sun starts going down, everybody comes out of their houses and just hangs out outside. They talk and joke and their kids play together on the lawn. People bring you cocktails just because you are sitting there. It’s like the American dream come true over there. Sometimes music even comes out of the sky and the credits of your life start rolling down from the horizon.
Meanwhile, back at my house, we have no yard and cement to play on. Maybe that gives us street cred or something but between you and me it is boring in the summertime. Patios are great and all but there is nothing like running around outside in bare feet and not having to worry about stepping on bottle caps and broken pieces of glass. So we like to go to Whoorl’s. Especially when she has new toys to play with.
The kids had so much fun with this snake sprinkler thing. I think Whoorl is going to write about it on Parent Dish soon. She’ll give you the full scoop. I will just add my two cents and say that it was super fun and very toddler-friendly. If I had a lawn, I would buy one of these things. I would have the greenest lawn ever. I might even have a swamp.
After the sprinkler session, and a good nap for two tuckered-out kids, we dressed them up like little JCrew models and let them have at it with wooden mallets. Then we sipped some cocktails and took photos—which may or may not have a lot to do with how much fun the whole evening was.
Cheers to long summer days and friends who live close by and serve refreshments!
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The Dinosaur and the Princess
The other day after tumbling class*, Baby Bug and I ambled on over to the playground that is on the same elementary school grounds that our tumbling class gymnasium is on. While we were walking around inspecting the new gear that is different from any of the parks that we usually frequent, Baby Bug started calling me “Dinosaur” for no particular reason.
I used to worry that Baby Bug might grow up with a lack of imagination because I play with her all day long. And when I’m not playing with her, I’m tuning her out with the help of my favorite babysitter: the always-on-ever-present Noggin channel aka television. I worried because I attribute my own active imagination to the fact that I was bored out of my skull most of my childhood and I never had television to occupy me. So will Baby Bug grow up completely dependent on others to amuse herself, I wondered?
The answer is no. Baby Bug’s imagination is alive and well. And guess what? I’m part of it. I’m a dinosaur.
It was kind of funny to be called a dinosaur since I often feel like a big awkward dinosaur when I’m trying to climb up ladders and fit down small skinny playground slides with her. She refuses to go by herself down the slides and often gets stuck at the top with no way to get down so I, being the agreeable mom that I am, often just go up on the playground after her. I figure it’s good exercise.
Except sometimes there is water at the bottom of the slide. In fact, a lot of the time there is water at the bottom of the slide and often I slide my big fat dinosaur butt right into it, leaving a not-so-appreciated wet stain on my pants. You’d think I’d learn to look before sliding one of these days, but I never do.
“What’s wrong, Dinosaur?” she asks in her polite manner.
“Mommy has a wet butt.” I answer.
“No, you’re not Mommy, you’re Dinosaur!” she proclaims.
On and on and on we go like this. I decided I’d play along and start calling her “Princess.” She loved that. I think it’s her new favorite game now. The Dinosaur and The Princess: an on-going series. Off and on all day we fell into character. Sometimes she’d shake off her princess disguise and declare she was just regular Baby Bug again. I don’t mind. I think it’s kind of funny.
I’m thinking it would be super fun to illustrate. I can see sketches where the Dinosaur starts falling out of character and the “Mommy” emerges only to be yelled at by the Princess. I’m not really where I’d like to be as an illustrator. I can see the pictures in my head but I think it would take me weeks just to get one page just right.
I worked on it a little today. And true to character, “the Princess” yelled at me because I made her dress pink and not green.
Get it right, Dinosaur!
*Yes! We’re taking a tumbling class together! It’s so fun. I’m taking my camera with me next week so I can share.
