Will teaches Aya pinball. He showed her how to work the flipper — he worked the right side, she the left.
Bob the Builder legos!
Snack time: watermelon, goldfish, blueberries!
And where was Kate? Watching them with rapt attention. All in all, it was not particularly difficult watching 2 2-year olds plus an infant… although it is definitely much, much easier when all the kids are the same age. Two words: “Constant Alert!”
Pirate Captain Will, complete with skeleton band-aids.
Plastic Mile | 26-Aug-06 at 2:11 pm | Permalink
Very cool pictures. I remember the cutest little brown-haired girl I used to play with as a kid sometimes, and wonder what happened to her. Her name was Lorianne and we used to build sand castles. Sometimes I think it would’ve been cooler to have grown up in a less transient community, so that the people you grew up with are the people who you knew since you were wee high. I didn’t grow up with anyone I knew from elementary school, and don’t know anyone from then, and that sucks. Just another way I feel like I was robbed of a “normal” childhood, whatever that is. It’s like a piece of your history is gone.
Holly | 26-Aug-06 at 10:43 pm | Permalink
What would have been a “normal” childhood for you, in your view?
I don’t feel like a piece of my history is gone, and I have never had a place to call “my hometown.”
I’ve met a lot of folks who have always lived in one place and a lot of folks who grew up moving about. While nice is to be found in both, my experience is that the moved-around people are more open-minded, better educated, and just generally more friendly and accepting. I consider it my duty as a parent to make sure my kids live in some different places — including overseas — during their formative years.
Plastic Mile | 30-Aug-06 at 5:25 pm | Permalink
I certainly do, as I said, feel that a piece of my history is gone when the people whom I cared about at a young age are no longer around. I had fun with them and I have fond memories of the time, so yes, it’s history lost.
Everyone’s ideal is different, but there is something to be said for a long-standing sense of community and permanance, that sense of identity. There is value in that. It’s not the only “ideal,” but it’s mine, in the sense that it’s what I wanted. There’s a certain charm to growing up behind picket fences, and you’re not necessarily an idiot if you do. Of course at some point you’ve got to get out and see the world, but that’s not really the point. The point is that there can be value in pointing to a place and its people who you’ve known forever, and being able to say, hey I belong there.