Today was the first day of summer. In celebration, I went outside, like, 3 times.
I'm the youngest of 5, and was the treasured baby of my parents, who were considered old parents back then at 35. Now 70 year olds are having twins all the time, but it was the 70's, you know. Barely. Anyway, my old genius parents kept me pretty close, so I wouldn't get sullied by the antichrist or get a boyfriend or anything, plus, they liked having me around. So I liked staying inside, curling up with a nice book, maybe enjoying a plate of cheese and apples and some Kate Hepburn, if I had a taste for a movie, or some Elvis, from when he was pretty. Listening to Rush Limbaugh while designing my Jessica Stanley for 4th Grade President posters, you know?
And every now and then I'd spend the night at someone's house, and they'd watch a movie in color and then they'd go outside. For hours. And I'd sweat and get sunburned and the mosquitoes would bite me, and I would think "What is the POINT of this nonsense?" but I wouldn't say that, because old parents teach you to be polite. But really I was biding my time to get back to my couch, my cat and my Charles Dickens.
So now I have these kids, and Brynn likes to play outside. She'll go out there for the whole day, despite snow or flames or what have you. So I bought a pool and we collected all 12 of her hand-me-down swimsuits, and she goes through several wardrobe changes a day, and spends most of her time standing in her pool. Toby is not so much for this. He'll go out for a little and try to direct as much water as possible at our house, but very soon his legs are cold and he's getting bitten by bugs despite being carefully coated with toxic chemicals. Today I tried to make Toby eat lunch out there and it was a whole screaming meltdown about bugs eating his food.
And what can I say? He is totally right. Bugs stink. It is hot out there, and bright, and hard. So I gave in and let him eat his picnic at the kitchen table. Shoot, we have windows. He'll probably turn out just fine.