Of Late...

We continue to live in a consuming state of literary limbo, making our way slowly through this magical Harry Potter MESS.
(Admittedly, we'd make quicker progress if we read alone - but I wouldn't trade Wes's "British" narration for any amount of speed!)
Car rides, nap times, and late nights (only 1, actually! My early morning resolve has only been sacrificed once!) have allowed us occasional submergence in the wizarding world. When we emerge from our adventures with Harry, gasping for breath, we hastily scramble to catch up with our muggle concerns including diaper changes, meeting prep, GRE study, mutual activities, and family home evenings, as opposed to invisibility cloaks, polly juice potion, deathly hallows, and dark lords.

And so this post comes to you from the scatterbrained files of my mind....as an attempt to sort fact from fantasy.

On Monday, Lucy and I "hiked" over the rocky trail next to our apartment complex and bought sweet corn and a juicy watermelon.

Watermelon is pretty much Lucy's life blood. We can't put it on the table until she's eaten other food, or else that other food won't get touched. Tonight, after Lucy had eaten a tolerable amount of food, I asked Wes quietly in my most impressive pig-latin, "Do you want the 'ater-melon-way' now or later." Lucy, from my side, was as quick with her response as Harry with his "expelliarmus!" Wes didn't even have a chance to register what I had asked.

"I want some watermelon on my way!" she said with an excited smile.

She was also thrilled about the corn.
"Haaawm!" she would exclaim with every bite. After a few minutes of devouring her cob, and after observing Wes and I eating our corn with a boring lack of enthusiasm, she carefully instructed us, "Say 'haaaawm' mom and dad! Say 'haaaaaaawwm!"

After dinner, Wes sneaked Harry Potter into my hands so I could read aloud while he cleaned up (Yes, he is the most wonderfully helpful husband ever). Lucy played happily at our feet as we indulged. After ten or fifteen minutes, however, she came over, obviously bursting with the excitement of a good idea, "Shoo we go rolling?! Shoo we go an roll?" We laughed. "Let's go out!" I agreed, and then whispered to Wes, "She can roll and we'll read!"
So we looked for shoes and got ready to go. As we approached the door, Lucy looked at Wes, Harry Potter tucked under his arm. "Leave-a-book, dad!" She said in her nicest, condescending, "parent" voice, "Leave-a bo-ook!" Wes's sheepish gaze met my own. Busted! In the end, it was better that we left the book...







...or we would have missed the delight of Lucy crossing her arms, crossing her legs, cinching up her toes, and squeezing her eyes closed while she rolled and rolled and rolled. "Free more times," she'd say with a serious nod. Or, with the same nod and knitted brow, "Dis is da last time!"
As we laughed and laughed at her delightedly bunched up body and her enraptured smile bobbling down the hill again and agian, Lucy finally sat up and said with a smile, "That cracks you up!"

And Tuesday was a holiday. Lucy immediately fell in love with the pioneer children who, we taught her, "sang as they walked and walked and walked and walked."
We spent the day with friends...


and with Grandpa.

Lucy went swimming.
Ate more corn.

And investigated Grandpa's collection of snails.






After Lucy was asleep for the night, Grandpa treated Wes and I to a mini-date in the back yard. Isn't he a dear dad? And so, under summer stars, a couple of s'more sticks in hand, Wes and I mentally laid out the blue prints of our dream home, tweaking a laundry room here and a secret-passage-way there. And you Twilight readers might not think that sounds as romantic as facing near-death experiences at the side of your handsome vampire, but I assure you: it is.