I don't want to cook dinner.
Or fold laundry.
Or clean a single corner
I want to read books written in the South.
And take pictures of my kids standing in slants of morning light.
I want to listen to music.
And take walks.
And tickle the goodness out of little toddler armpits.
It is never quiet here.
They are jumping. They are fighting. They are singing Hamilton and Frozen and the Wheels on the Bus. And sometimes I'm singing too.
Alamae and Jettie are finally potty training.
And Gus and Sena seem to be nicer to each other.
It looks like we've survived the winter.