Better days.

For all  of you Anne of Green Gables lovers (like myself), I cling to the idea that,
"Tommorow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it." 
Lucy Maud, you were an inspired woman.

My "tommorow" was today.
 
The sun was shining, the kids were on the mend, I stayed in my jammies until noon.  Yes, NOON!  That's out of character for me.  I'm a get-ready-first kind of gal.  Not that I moseyed around.  I was busy . . . in my jammies.  I weeded and watered the garden and flowers.  There is tremendous satisfaction pulling up weeds, roots and all, sealing their pitiful fate.  I can be merciless without guilt . . . if you're a weed.

While I waited to change the sprinkler to different sections of the garden, I tied water balloons for the kids.  They planned a massive surprise-attack on their father.  I can never figure out why kids think water balloons won't pop all over them if they bite them?  Dah-well, live and learn (again and again and again).

Ben took a couple of our boys to a Father/Son campout tonight (sick Brigham stayed home and bonded with Luke and Princess Leia, downstairs).  Annie and I hung out upstairs, my live-in BFF.  Ice cream cones, Ella Enchanted, too many books to count and too many songs sung.  I'd say we sufficiently filled our girl-time quota for the evening.  Have I ever said how much I LOVE squishy-cheeked four year-olds?  I do.  A lot.

Some days, it feels like nothing paticularly important happens.  Sometimes, however, those turn out to be the best days ever . . . because of the nothingness.  Simplicity is grand.