This afternoon the kids played in the kiddie pool in the front yard (don’t worry — froggy moved out and we scrubbed and rinsed).
Baby Daniel was enchanted by the idea of an enormous outdoor bathtub he can share with all his siblings. Time after time, he climbed the small step ladder to the slide and then perched himself at the top — grinning in glory.
The big boys made an adventure out of filling the pool. The hose was too cold, they determined, and so they made endless trips into the house, filled a giant pail with hot water from the bathtub, and then lugged it back outside to dump into the waiting “hot tub.”
Kateri found a fat bullfrog in the field and shouted with excitement. Everyone abandoned the pool and ran to see. The gang of them gathered around their sister’s “catch” for a closer look. They stood, wet in the field; their bare backs and legs gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
The housekeeper in me attempted to be annoyed by wet footprints in the bathroom, sopping towels in the mudroom, and bits of stray grass that coated the kitchen tiles.
I tried, but found I could only bask in the summery feeling of frogs and simple sunshine while dinner baked in the oven. I could only remind the kids weakly to hang their wet suits when they returned indoors. I could only smile.