back in the backyard

With a break in the seemingly never-ending rain (we know, it was merely a few weeks of rain. . . real weather will be a cruel, cruel shock) we return to our backyard.

Suddenly, everything outside is new again! The girls rediscover every ball we own, testing the way they bounce. . . or not. They scoot around on the long-outgrown Winnie-the-Pooh ride-on toy. And they run and jump and (I'll admit it) yell a bit, just because they can. It's a relief for all of us, some of us having said, "Use your indoor voice, please," more times than we care to count.

We drag the playhouse onto the lawn, where little girls can pop in and out all day long. Sometimes they even use the door.

In just one afternoon, that playhouse is a house, a store, and a castle. Especially a castle. Here, the princess pauses on the way to her wedding. (Those bristle blocks? Her bridal bouquet.)

The girls aren't the only ones who want to play outside. John David watches his sisters longingly. And when he thinks his mama is distracted -- by laundry or supper or what-have-you -- he makes his move, crawling to the threshold of the door.

He wants so badly to be out there! But when we call his name, he turns back, his expression one of cheerful pleading. We can already fill in the dialogue, imagining him saying, "Hey! I should be out there, too, Mama!"

We relocate him to the living room, plying him with all sorts of fascinating (indoor) toys. And yet, the next thing we know, we're dragging him off the sandy pavement, peeling strawberry leaves from his chubby hands, brushing dirt from his knees and toes. Before we know it, he'll be bigger, toddling all over the backyard, too. Summer will be fun.