I had a simple, but exquisite weekend.

Setting: park at noon.

Action: Blowing bubbles, digging in the sandbox, shooting down slides, drawing on the sidewalk with fat sidewalk chalk, playing hopscotch, jumping over tires, following the leader.

Until I had children, I forgot how much I love the outdoors. Love it. Love grass, love trees, love parks, love breezes, love birds chirping. Love not being inside enclosed within the small walls of an apartment. Love the lack of concrete, noise and congestion. I smiled so freely and deeply yesterday that I almost didn’t know myself.

Also, since my children are inadvertently humorous and have impeccable timing, let me share this brief story. This park is very close to a church and after the service, a family with two little girls walked over from the church to the playground for a little springtime fun. Owl was sitting in the backseat in this fake car and the two little girls started climbing into the front seat, their parents watching and smiling. I was about 100 feet away, gathering some things up with Owl before heading home. Owl sat there for a moment staring at the girls and then his body suddenly melted into the ground. Keeping his eye on the two girls, he slithered down, flattened himself out, rolled under the car, A-Team style, and then started shouting “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!,” while running away and darting desperate looks back at them, ensuring no one was in tow.

Good times.

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