Summer in our neighborhood means that there is never a shortage of playmates.  This group truly astounds me with their ability to play all day long with each other.  They even happily include Shortcake (who adores every one of them).  This photo was taken at the door of a fort made with lawn chairs, a toddler slide, sheets, and towels.  Seven kids were inside, sharing a communal lunch of fresh strawberries, cheddar cheese, crackers, and juice–arranged entirely by the kids.

This day, they were playing some crazy imaginative game, during the course of which I heard these snippets:

“OK, your brain surgery is now finished!  Let’s get out of here!  Quick!”

“…pretend you didn’t know I was an archaeologist.  You know now, but I told you I was just a scientist.  And you’re beginning to ask questions…”

“Oh no!  Something happened!  Dr. C!  Do you know who this is?  Do you know who I am?  (gasp)  He doesn’t know who we are!  Stay here, I need to go check out this alien!”

The entertainment is well worth the 100 popsicles a day.*

*mild exaggeration.  It’s more like 50.

So, I did have something thoughtful and rather melancholy to post.  But how in the world could I, with these S’mores-’round-the-campfire pictures from this weekend sitting on my memory card?  

And that’s it…  neither wordy, sappy, airy-fairy, nor smart-ass.  How disappointing.

Just really, really cute.

p.s.  I have mad marshmallow roasting skills.  I just needed you to know. 

Maaad skills.  And, that is all.

Hi.  This is what I do when my husband goes to prom (yeah, prom. no corsage.  no pictures.), my boys sleep, my eldest roams the neighborhood, and my febrile youngest nurses.

You pity, me, don’t you.  DON’T YOU!?

(as if my geek is really all that inner.)