The true sign of how hot it is this summer is that I don’t even notice it anymore. We just go about our business, playing in the backyard and going on picnics at the park constantly drenched in sweat. Then I look at a photograph from an outing are notice that maybe the heat is starting to wear on us.
I think (?) we enjoy our nice, sweltering summer picnics. I really don’t care how hot it is; it’s so much easier to make sandwiches in the morning and bring them with us than to get everyone out of the house and home and fed before naptime.
Tate is teething, plus he loves apples. So far apples have been great for him. It’s an improvement over the teethers of my grandparents’ generation: a baby mitten filled with sugar, then soaked in bourbon. That explains so many things.
See the fly on Tate’s cup? Rush is letting him know it’s time to move on. “GO AWAY BUG.”
It’s time for me to stop putting off unloading the dishwasher. There’s nothing else left to say about the heat; drought or not, it’s always hot in August.
oh my gosh your boys just get cuter and cuter! maybe carolena and i can join you on spring picnics when it isnt so hot!
ReplyDeletehahaha! looking at this again - tate's expressions in those first two pictures are priceless! i wonder what he was thinking
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