We went on vacation this week. We feel more tired than when we went. Technically, we’re probably just as tired as before we went, but we’d been packing up the house for a week before our departure. A renovation began while we were away. (As a side note, the contractor is awesome. Demolished everything while we were gone, and got the bathroom into usable condition for our return. So that’s good.)
While we were away, my husband threw out his back. I also had back issues–and I’m not prone to those–that I attribute to really pushing myself on a run and to the “beds” at Girl Scout Camp. Our car also decided it was time to die, and since we’d put about $2k into it recently and it was still going to pieces, it was time to buy a new car.
On the night my husband’s back went out, we were supposed to go out to dinner. Our usual babysitter up yonder was out of town, but she suggested her friend–who was looking after the three kids of her housemate, who ran a seedling farm. The babysitter’s friend said she could still babysit, but we’d need to come to her.
After Daniel’s back went out, we reconsidered–but my daughter begged to go. Kids! A farm! It was the playdate of her dreams.
So, we trekked out there, only to find the farm was, in fact, fairly remote. Two kids, a boy and a girl, who looked like Weasleys-in-training trooped out, to be followed by their toddler brother (who looked nothing like a Weasley).
We left my daughter there for two hours and when we returned, they were all fast friends. She had seen their chickens, gathered eggs, fed their guinea pigs, patted the stray cats who really lived there, and helped the kids make a “house” in the buckwheat plants. (This entailed trampling some buckwheat to make “rooms,” but no one seemed to care.)
When they said goodbye, my daughter and the eight-year-old girl embraced like they had been best friends since birth, and begged for a sleepover. They took a picture together and hugged some more. The new friend ran after Arden as she left, and it was like Miss Piggy and Kermit running through a field together in The Muppet Movie (from my era). I won’t lie–it was very cute.
A random thing that struck me–the house was very plain, and the little girl’s room essentially consisted of a bed, a dresser, and a giant guinea pig cage. Still, in place of honor in her otherwise bare room was an American Girl catalog.
I guess even surrounded by boys (including a toddler who “spits,” according to my daughter), a girl’s got to have some girly, overpriced items. How did Ginny Weasley make it, surrounded by so many wisecracking brothers?