In the eleven plus years I've been living here this is the nicest May I can remember. The days are warm enough to lure us to dip our toes in the pool, though thus far only my boys have been brave enough to jump all the way in. I'm getting there. The nights are flawless little pockets of time and each feels like an inestimable gift in the face of the coming heat. They're barely cool and perfect for unhurried walks around the neighborhood, sunset dinners in our courtyard and sleeping with our windows thrown open.
|He thinks he can use a knife by himself. Not so much.|
The boys begged for Cheetos yesterday at the grocery store and I caved. My 3-year-old has inexplicably started calling them "macheetos," a compound of "mosquitoes" (of which he's terrified) and Cheetos. He has spent much of the past 24 hours orange-fingered and blissfully high on MSG.
Last night we grilled burgers and hot dogs but I skipped both in favor of a plate full of grilled artichokes with a biting garlic and herb dipping sauce. We had a grilled artichoke appetizer when we went out for my birthday last month and it was one of those mind-blowing type dishes we still speak about in reverent tones. "Do you remember the artichoke?" We've been attempting a homemade version ever since, with varying levels of success. Last night's offering was the best yet.
By the end of the meal my cheap white tee was a mosaic of pink watermelon drips, buttery artichoke splotches and Cheeto dust. Apparently my ability to eat neatly disappears when we move our dinner to the patio.
|He really likes corn.|
|Fixing a wayward mister|
School ended last week. The pool opened yesterday. Our kids summer movie series starts on Tuesday.
It feels like summertime.
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