
Bronwen loves to play outside. She is constantly begging for me to put on her shoes and socks (which she loves to take off) and her jacket and let her go play in the backyard. She hates that I won't let her play in the front yard and on the cul-de-sac with her brothers unless I am sitting out there (which I rarely do.) She loves the change of scenery, running, playing, and feeling like she's one of the big kids.
Today is the first day all week that she is feeling like doing anything besides cling to my leg and whine. She's had a terrible cold, which today is mostly manifesting in a horrific runny nose, but without the fever and sleeplessness we'll take it! She is also back to her ways of getting into ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING if I turn my back. This morning, I caught her eating butter from the butter dish with a knife. "Yummy, Momma!" she enthusiastically announced. Then there was the moment when I found her helping herself to some triple berry sauce that I had foolishly left out on the stove, rushing off to do something else. "Taste it, Momma!" I decided to not tell her dad, knowing that he wouldn't have any with his pound cake if he knew his little darling had been tasting away unsupervised. She has also added her decorative touch to more than one of her brothers' math worksheets, journals, and independent projects today, which always elicits a roar from them. And Ian can't play with trains, legos, or action figures without her interference.
So imagine what torture it is for
me her this afternoon. The rain let up for a few minutes and the boys all put on coats and ran out front to play between showers. She begged for her jacket and shoes, but this is what our backyard looks like this afternoon.


Jared and a good friend spent much of their free time last week tearing out everything in our backyard to make way for new pavement, sprinklers, and real, live grass! Unfortunately, this is not an instant fix, and 24 hours of rain did little to improve the terrain. I'm not sure that the photos do justice to the small, abundant lakes of mud. If my children owned slickers and rubber boots, it wouldn't be as big a deal, but she is not wearing her stride rite pink sparkly sneakers out in that, or her suede mary janes, or her patent leather t-straps. If it weren't 50 degrees outside, I'd be tempted to send her out barefoot with a big white trashbag tied over her clothes.
Here I am, pulling her back in as she tried to escape.

So, instead, I'm trying to type this post up with her "help" and taking frequent breaks to read all of her favorite books. This nearly 2-year old is exhausting. It's a good thing that I got pregnant before I remembered how busy and demanding 2-year-olds can be. Is it bedtime yet?