We had a wonderful Fourth of July weekend. We went to Bend, as is now traditional, and the weather was gorgeous, the company excellent, and the food delicious.
The kids loved it. They loved being outside, they loved all the time with their beloved relatives, they loved doing stuff outside our usual lives. Skipper was assigned chores that she found extremely interesting.
Dutch participated again in the peculiar Pet Parade. Skipper wasn't very enthusiastic (and this picture suggests that Cook at least momentarily shared her feelings).
The Best Baby Ever apparently was also a little skeptical.
After the parade, Dutch got a popsicle (handed out to all the nine million kids who participated), and Skipper was very jealous. Dutch was completely exhausted, and when her popsicle fell apart a few minutes after this photo was taken, she burst into sobs and wails.
We also went rafting, swimming, and museuming, and Dutch enjoyed everything enormously in spite of her sleep deficit. The rest of us did, too, but only Dutch was overwhelmed with delight by standing in a cabin listening to "Mrs. Miller" explain to her about how underclothes worked in 1904. Dutch (who dressed up in her most old-fashioned clothes for the museum visit) would now like to buy some petticoats and corsets.
It was a lovely break. We returned (after a drive that was notably better than our two previous end-of-Fourth-of-July drives home with the kids, but still approached the world record for the amount of whining perpetrated in one four-hour period) to find our garden bursting with bounty (and aphids, damnit!), and our bedroom mysteriously STILL not painted. What's up with that?
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