And then it dawns on me: Bea is not here. She's upstairs--we hear rattling and banging. How is it that she has kept herself so busy up there?
Martin comes down with a report: Bea has stripped her clothes and diaper. She has started a bath for herself, pulled down the bath toys, and is squatting in the tub. On the landing: a perfectly laid turd.
Happy Saturday, everybody!
Today: Martin plants sugarsnap peas, the kids play outside in the garden and under the tree that split in The Snow (here with our friends the T. children), and I frost two dozen cupcakes for a violin recital.
Right Now: Six robins and a squirrel beckoning us to leave the pancake dishes and run outside!
