"fooot ponts" says he, jumping up and down, arms flapping wildly.
"fruit pants?" I ask him back.
"No, Mama. see! come see." Away he runs, not looking back to see if I'm with him; feet pumping so high up behind him each stride is a literal kick in the pants.
He leads me to a foam mat in the middle of the floor, a tray holding a collection of tiny toy foods, one a cardboard carton of fruit punch. Waving it proudly in my face he declares "fooot ponts. fooot ponts." then plops himself on my legs -- owning the spot as always -- to pour me a tiny plastic cupful.
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I was going to write something tonight about participating in challenges, how I used to feel about that and how my perspective is changing. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, there's a big typhoon of life literally encircling me that won't be ignored.
Meanwhile, here's a peak at the beginning of something -- my interpretation of Ali's weekend creative challenge on layering + paint. I've wanted to do something in this blue for a while now.
Time to put the kiddos to bed here and give myself over to the business of Sunday night routine.
edited later to add: only in the last couple of weeks have I started singing to Marty at bedtime. With the girls being just enough older to have outgrown it, I had forgotten the sweet relaxation that comes over them. He doesn't know the rewards are purely my own. This is our song: close your eyes by TFIA.
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"Howp me, Mama ... howp me, feeeze." That's just about all I can think about right now.
... to be continued
