I haven't figured this out yet . . .
Spring seems to be on its way as this whole week promises to be warm. My fresh air loving children will appreciate the change, and certainly seemed to enjoy it today. Then again, who doesn’t like fresh air? Only my nephew, when he visited from L.A., complained about the air being too fresh and expressed a desire for more smog. True story.
And what better way to enjoy a warm March day than with bubbles? Sadly, now that I’m kind of grown up, I don’t derive much pleasure from bubbles. They just don’t do it for me. I’m either mildly asthmatic or just really, really, really out of shape because blowing bubbles for too long leaves me out of breath and I start to feel light-headed.
That’s why it makes me so happy that G is now old enough to blow the bubbles himself. If only I could get him to do it without spilling half the bottle at the same time.
That reproachful look C is giving G, is the result of roughly a year’s worth of elder sibling abuse and aggression. I can’t blame her. I didn’t know anyone could blow bubbles so aggressively. Regardless, it was awfully sweet of him to blow bubbles for her entertainment, even if she was scared for her safety.