Back to Normal Life

Sorry I went radio silent for a few days. Spoiler alert – we were in Canada! We spent the weekend with 13 relatives, eating our way through Scarborough’s Chinatown in Toronto. Will definitely post about our trip after I sort through my bajillion photos of family and dumpling foods.

Now that we’ve (temporarily) retired from our full-time jobs as professional eaters, it’s back to normal life. I think it was a testament to how much we ate that George, my eating machine, requested a half a mini bagel for breakfast.

Today, Hazy had her first day at Tenacity, which is this really cool, and random, tennis and literacy camp. Yes, tennis and literacy. Apparently, they go together like peanut butter & jelly, so I guess we’ll have to eat Tenacity every day for the rest of the summer.

I don’t know who even told Hazy that people wear skirts to play tennis (me?), but she came downstairs dressed in her rainbow shirt and America skirt this morning. When looking for shoes, she said rather earnestly, “I’m sorry, Mama, but I can’t find any shoes that match my outfit.” Regardless, she was over it by the time she saw her bestie, Evie.

Can you believe those shoes?
Can you believe those shoes?

Tennis camp is free, and you kind of get what you pay for.

Showing off her newfound tennis skills.
Showing off her newfound tennis skills.

Tennis camp is from 9-12, which, after factoring in walking time, left George and I with two hours of one on one time. I gave him some options, and he chose what he always chooses: the Brown Playground!

Brown Playground isn’t its actual name, but my kids have nicknames for all the local playgrounds, like “the Tot Lot” and “the Sand Playground.” George is obsessed with the Brown Playground because it overlooks the train tracks.

Psst...George, there are like 10 slides behind you!
Psst…George, there are like 10 slides behind you!

When Hazy’s with him, George will go down the big kid slides and play the instruments and stuff, but when it’s just us, all he wants to do is listen and look for trains.

George can tell from the sound of the train if it's the orange line or "purple line" (commuter rail).
George can tell from the sound of the train if it’s the orange line or “purple line” (commuter rail).
Quick tickle break
Quick tickle break
Pretty cute shutterbug
George turns the camera on me.
Me, by George
Me, by George

I forgot to mention how we got to the Brown Playground. We took the scooter. Letting George ride his scooter is like giving birth. There is some weird hormone my body releasesĀ that makes me forget the incredible pain of the last time I did it. Here’s the typical scooter experience:

Step 1: Pretend to know how to ride scooter until we are a little too far to turn back.
Step 1: Pretend to know how to ride scooter until we are a little too far to turn back.
Step 2: Proclaim inability to ride scooter and start proposing alternate means of riding it. "I can sit on it and scoot, like this!"
Step 2: Proclaim inability to ride scooter and start proposing alternate means of riding it. “I can sit on it and scoot, like this!”
Step 3: Proceed in super slow motion, whining, until your mother cracks and carries the scooter for you.
Step 3: Proceed in super slow motion, whining, until I crack and carry the scooter home.

Needless to say, we walked home.

It’s not too late to enter to win my friend Lauren’s book, The Places You’ll Feed, by commenting here.

You can also win my undying devotion by commenting on this post.

 

 

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