Shine City

On Monday, we went to the "airport playground" outside of Wegmans. Hadley busted her lip trying to climb up a cargo truck toy. Moments later, Thatcher walked right into the same truck and nailed his forehead. He didn't hit it hard, but he hit it in just the right spot for maximum impact. Unfortunately, he is adamant in his belief that ice does not, in fact, make knots and bruises any better. Thanks to his stubbornness (wonder where he gets that), both of his eyes are now black.


On a bright note, the accident somehow managed to render Thatcher really helpful. Yesterday, I was sorting the laundry on the floor and he started putting it all into the same basket. I explained to him that we can't wash whites with darks, gentles with heavy duties, etc. I really didn't think anything of it until a few hours later when I went back upstairs. He had put all of the sorted laundry into separate baskets and took them into the laundry room for me. Who is this child - and can he train his father???

Now that the weather has turned cooler in the evenings, we usually have dinner and after-dinner playtime outside. With these hosta-eaters--I mean "spectators"--in our back yard, can you blame us?

All of the landscaping we did over the summer--or all of it that has not been eaten by the deer--is in full swing now, so we have a large contingent of bumblebees that enjoy feasting on our azalea, phlox, and sedum in the evening. Thatcher kept them company while they ate for a good half an hour last night. It went a little something like this: "Hello, bees. Are you eating supper? Will you go make some honey now, please? Hey, bees, did I tell you I'm going to go trick or treating this Halloween? I want Winston and W to go with Lauren and me. Bees, are you going to go on Halloween?"