Bang-Bang!

Fans, after nearly 72 hours without power, it's back on.  Three cheers for Excel Energy and the crew in from Wisconsin that fixed our block's line!  So, we write to you of this dinnertime vignette from the desktop computer.

As you no doubt remember, Fans, Our Hero will turn five in a matter of days.  He's hoping for a water gun.  He has spoken of mounting a campaign at school among his friends he knows to be attending his party--you know, just in case they weren't sure what they could get him for his birthday.  Some weeks ago, we decided to get Our Hero some water weaponry and a new wading pool for his birthday.  We figured that this would be a gift that someone else very likely (and rightfully) might not want to get for our little gunslinger.  Since these seasonal items are the sorts of things that are here-today-gone-tomorrow in one's local Target, so this past weekend, when we were out and about with the rest of the St. Louis Parkians that were without power, Julie went into the Little Target and picked up some water heat.

Now we and older Fans might remember when water guns were basically revolvers.  Fans, now, you can get a water magazine clip for your faux automatic water weapon.  They come with not only triggers, but pumps.  It's a little frightening to consider the array for one's almost-five-year-old even if one reassures one's self of the normalcy of gun play and reminds one's self of the heartfelt chats one has had with one's child about not pointing even a pretend gun at a person, especially a person's face.

Julie figured she'd at least get a water gun with a large water tank so we wouldn't be asked incessantly to refill it.  She got a three-pack and asked for a big bag at check out which she then tossed in the back cargo compartment when she got back to the car.

Today at dinner, Joe piped up and said something along the lines of, "Hey!  You know what?!  I think I saw water guns in the back of the car!"  (Sometimes, we likes to hang over the back of his seat when he gets in the car.)

So that bullet's been fired, Fans.  Bang-bang!  At least we've still got the pool.  Bang-bang?

No yogurt

Ted cleared out most of the fridge last night after about 48 hrs of no power.  Clara of course still marched over to the fridge this morning for her yogurt. She tends to stand in front and wait for Ted to open - no words are exchanged. She looked in and said  "no more yogurt...we have to get some more at the store."  We discussed the miracle of electricity and refrigeration before sitting down with a granola bar and a cup of tap water. 

O Pioneers!

Fans, we are rocking it like pioneers.* Our power is out in the wake of a thunderstorm last night that brought with it 60 to 70 mile per hour straight line winds in addition to rain. The tree in the backyard of the celebrity demi-goddess babysitter's house fell on their roof and the fence their neighbor finished installing about a week ago. They weren't hurt and all our other neighbors are fine, but there are plenty of downed trees, tree limbs, and power lines and plenty of damage to property throughout the neighborhood. We toured it this morning in the out-but-unscathed Blue on our way to swimming class when we took the picture here of the tree in the yard next door to Graham and Connor's old house. We're feeling pretty lucky. 

*This post is brought to you via the wonders of technology including the Blogger app. Seemingly the whole of SLP is out at any commercial business with power charging their various devices at all available outlets. This reporter charged the phone on which she is typing this at an obliging outlet at the salon where the bambini got their hair cut this morning.

A long walk

The contractor who bought our house had  architects at the house for an hour on Friday which meant Berenice needed to go on a long walk.  Its been a while since she got to do this, so she was sniffing up all the smells.  She will be the last to know about the move but we hope she likes it.  

The builder says they will put an addition off the back and maybe bump out the side a bit too. They want to preserve our big oak trees, but after our storms this weekend, they might not need to worry!

A Letter to Biride

Birdie,

You are one tough and tender little thing.

Some night last week found us both in frustrated tears.  I was crying because you were doing everything but going to bed at bedtime and you were crying because I was busy dismantling your bed and carting it out of the room.  (I am also tough.  "You don't want to sleep?  Fine!  You don't get a bed!")  You were crying when you weren't laughing at all the consternation you were causing.  (The power!)  Daddy came in and asked me to leave your room before I'd gotten so far as the bed frame itself, but I noticed that he'd moved it out to the hallway when I came back inside after storming out into the yard and flinging myself into one of the adirondack chairs.  I found you then asleep on the floor, on your tummy with your little bottom in the air.  I carted all the pieces of your bed back in and put it together again, and then put you in it.  (It turns out, I might also be tender.)  You opened your eyes and scowled at being woken, but you hadn't really woken and you went right back to sleep.

This past Sunday was Father's Day.  Daddy and Joe went to a Twins game.  You and I stayed home.  We both napped, but I woke up before you.  I was typing something else here on the computer when suddenly, there you were next to me.  You said you wanted to go on a bike ride, so I pushed you on your trike down to the park.  You were in your sunglasses along with your helmet.  Hot stuff.  Along the way, we passed a house with some purple iris in full bloom in front of it.  I pointed them out to you as we passed.

That night, when I was carrying you to bed, I told you I had had fun with you that afternoon.  You looked at me and said, "My favorite things was. . .the irises!"  I said, "They were purple!  You like purple.  I liked them, too."

You're barely three, so I imagine you won't remember these moments, but who knows?  One of the things you realize as you get older is that some of the things you remember are sometimes sort of funny.  And who's to say that this past Sunday afternoon will remain so etched in my mind?  Sometimes you are in moments and you think, "I'm going to remember this moment always."  But you don't.  Other times, you're in a moment that seems ordinary, and maybe it really is, and you don't think anything about it, and for some reason, that moment is one of the most vivid pictures your heart carries.

It could be you'll remember our walk past the iris, and me carrying you into bed, and the way you sometimes reach up and pull me to you so, so tight.

It could also be that you'll remember that I once dismantled your whole bed and carted nearly all of it out of your room.

It could be you won't remember any of it.

So I am writing these words to you so that in any case, you'll know that the Father's Day when you were three, we shared a sweet afternoon.  (And, I suppose, that I once carted your entire bed out of your room.)  And, that I love the way you pull the things you love to you and hold them so close.

Love you so much, Birdie Birds.

Mommy