Fun Things THIS Mama Got To Do:

Make Lydia Belly Laugh For the First Fime. There is no sound quite as delightful as a wee little one giving a throaty, unhindered laugh. To hear it is like listening to a bubbling brook or a warbling summer bird, or to see sunshine dancing through tall leafy trees. And, when YOU are the one tickling and the laughter is a result of YOUR love poured out, in that moment there is nothing that can be more satisfying!

Scare the Feet Off Phinehas. Stealthily, I crept up the stairs, crouching at the top just around the corner from the bathroom; Phin was getting ready for his nap. Happy little boy noises met my ears – hums, growls, and giggles. Right as he rounded the corner, on his way to bed, I ROARED my loudest, most ferocious ROAR possible! Phinehas JUMPED into the air, his mouth wide open with an ear splitting shriek, did a half-twist-with-rapid-feet-kicks-and-arm-waggles, and landed in a heap of hoots and howls of petrified laughter. “You GOT me, Mama!” I sure did, Son!

Track An Opossum Up Over the Hill. It was a bright sunny day. Morning chores and school lessons were over, energy levels were high, and I was just about to bundle up the kids for an outside adventure when I looked out the window and saw a busy old possum, nosing about in the wet dirt under our overgrown Arborvitae (what we call the Cedar Tree). We all rushed to the window to watch as it snuffed around for dropped seeds and whatever else it could find in the only snowless patch of ground available. Phin said I should shoot it so we could eat it, but since I had no humane means of getting rid of the visitor, I instead canceled outdoor activities and we moved on to something else (aren’t possums supposed to be sleeping during the day, anyway?). During naptime, I ventured out to see what became of our marsupial friend. He had rambled over to the pile of campfire wood that we are saving for spring and then moseyed up the hill. Since I WISH I was an Indian (and I just finished reading The Sign of the Beaver) I tried to track it. I followed his swaying tracks across the yard and up the hill, through the dead brown grasses and to the edge of the woods – where, I’m sad to say, I lost the trail (not much of an Indian, eh?). Since it was a bright sunny day with a blue sky and fresh white snow, and since I was now certain that the possum was gone, I bundled up Abbi and Phin and sent them out for some fresh air. They tracked ME up the hill… then ran down whooping like they were Indians! (No, I didn’t whoop!)