I have bronchitis. And a sinus infection. And some other stuff. It made me a less than ideal companion to my family at the farm this weekend.
I’ve been burning my candle til there’s not much left. And my darling husband has too. Yet he completely stepped up and let me be a slug the past few days despite it being his birthday weekend.
I do have a rockin’ doctor who gave me a ton of meds yesterday and promises that I will be in travel-able shape by the time I have to catch a plane to Chicago Thursday.
As a result, I’ve been a little iffy keeping up my writing this week. But I do have a few precious vignettes from our weekend at the farm which may put a little smile on your face – it did mine.
The eldest absolutely adores his grandfather (Bray’s dad). He worships the ground he walks on. Apparently, last weekend when Bray was at the farm without me, grandfather allowed him to have some coffee milk in a little mug while the “men” sat out on the front porch having their morning cup o’ joe. Well, my funny child now knows exactly where his little mug is that grandfather designated for him (and put in a kid friendly location) and asks for coffee once in the morning and once in the afternoon when grandfather is enjoying his. (The children had been calling him grandpa, but now that the eldest calls him grandfather, the other two followed suit.)
It is the most precious thing you have ever seen. Those two fellas having their morning coffee together – with my baby either sitting next to grandfather or on his lap. I hope it doesn’t stunt his growth 🙂
Check out Saturday’s adoration session over coffee:
|Blowing on my lil’ coffee
|Cheers-ing coffees with grandfather
|Proudly displaying my little mug
While the eldest follows grandfather around, the baby won’t leave daddy’s side. He wants to do everything daddy does and will work earnestly around the farm to the extent his two-and-a-half-year old self allows. He spent an hour and a half cutting hay with dad and then rode the family around on the buggy to survey his progress (yes, he steered on Bray’s lap – lord help us)!
|C’mon mom, I got my boots on and am ready to go
|THIS one is my favorite tractor
But my favorite moment of the weekend (despite the lobster feast for Saturday’s dinner which nearly outshone everything) was the little lady’s newest past time. She is not nearly the tractor enthusiast that her brothers are, though she does love to ride horses, so we hung out some while the boys were cutting hay. I could be sitting on the ground or in a chair watching her play and she would come over, spread my legs, pull a kid-sized chair over in between them, sit down and say, “Mommy, I need to talk to you.” She would then sit there facing me in her chair and jabber on about half a dozen things, only half of which I actually understood. She would explain the goings-on of the family, the activities that had taken place, why she liked certain songs, and so forth and so on. She would punctuate her steady stream of conversation with laughter about some statement she made that cracked her up. She did this over the course of the weekend on at least three occasions. I loved it. I love that she wants to talk to me. I love that she engages me close up and face to face. And I promise that I will engage in this dialogue for as long as she wishes to do so, hopefully until she’s 50 and I’m in hospice. But in those teen years, when she’s less receptive, I will happily turn the tables and pull a chair up in her space and jump start these conversations. I hope this weekend’s were the first three in three million.
|I’m just dying to know what she’s thinking
|How could you resist a conversation with this?