Three generations enjoy Gene Kelley's "Singing in the Rain" number on YouTube while I make dinner. I am not, in general, a devotee of corny, happy, upbeat movies (there is no greater concentration of grimness than in my Netflix queue, just ask Scott) but I love that movie. Love, love, love it. And now Audrey feels an affinity for it, having Taken up the Tap herself. And mom-- mom just wants everyone to know that Fred Astaire is simply a bore compared to the nimble athleticism of Mr. Kelly and she is correct. End of conversation.
Time has come to get the tent out of its wrappings and air out that "basementy" smell in its fabric. Audrey's got a play date for pretend camping in our backyard next weekend, so we had to get the gear ready. How delighted we were to zip ourselves up in there and discover that we were RIGHT UNDERNEATH the next of our resident bluejay family and we could watch and listen while the parents came back with worms for their nestlings. (Tonight we watched them take practice flying trips across the yard.)
We relax after the hard, hard work of watching Scott put up the whole tent by himself.
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