Dear child of mine,
What a day we had. I don’t remember much of my own childhood from when I was your age, and maybe you won’t grow to remember today either. But I hope you do.
You were undeterred by the spring drizzle this morning as we ventured out to visit the neighborhood alpacas. It was their annual haircut day. You were greeted with chocolate covered doughnuts (your first) and immediately set to putting on quite a show (jumping, twirling, and profusely chattering) for the older girls, enlisted to assist in the ritual of the event.
Although the alpacas seemed most displeased*, you were fully entertained by the spectacle and refused to mosey along until all nine beasts had been sheared. Mom, on the other hand, was mystified by the news that the fleece would not be milled, as reportedly the expense is too great to be worthwhile for so few alpacas. This was particularly heartbreaking considering Mom spent the prior evening swatching with 100% alpaca yarn. Apparently the alpaca fleece economy in Peru is different. On the up side, Mom learned the fleece is a great gopher repellent in the garden.
Finally satisfied the alpaca business was over, we continued on our usual walking route. I tried to skip the side jaunt to the river, citing wet weather and a headache, both true. You would hear none of it.
The river it was.
Immediately you set about the usual repertoire: digging for dinosaur bones, building a house, and a variety of martial arts related maneuvers and vocabulary (Hi-ya!), which is a new phase. I assume this comes from preschool, as we don’t get much kung fu business in our household. You probably could have stayed all day, but at last we set off for home (even though I was quite content progressing on a sock despite the never-ending sprays of sand flying my way.)
After a late lunch and bird house building (Go Mom, Go!), I snuck in a few moments to weave in the final ends of your scrappy scarf while you wrestled with dad in the other room. This scarf has been on the needles for a while now. (It was mom’s Learning Colorwork project.) I might have let the project go, to ever languish in the knitting bag unfinished. Oh but the guilt. You asked me about the status of your little scarf whenever you caught me knitting.
Is that my scarf?
Finally the guilt got to me. Weaving in all the ends also got to me. Mom sucks at that.
I had to force you to get dressed before presenting you with your new scarf. You are often adverse to wearing clothing.
You know what you said when I finally presented the new treasure, hand in hand as we walked across the yard to Reedland, one of your favorite places to play, hidden in the grove of olive trees?
Thanks for my rescue rope, Mom. I love it.
You’re welcome, Little Bear. I love you.
*More photos over on Facebook. Check them out.