I just can't help myself. I don't know any other answer to the question, "Want to come to my cottage tomorrow?" besides, "Of course, what can I bring?" Even if that question is asked at 9:30 the night before, as I'm getting things closed down for bed. Stop. Hammer time. Make a few sandwiches, a veggie dish to share, pack up the swim stuff, and then surprise the girls in the morning.
"Want to go on an adventure today?"
They, being my daughters, know only one way to answer.
Summer is a month shy of turning two, but she makes it crystal clear that she is not limited by her age. She ran around the cottage grounds with her little friend and sisters, checking in with me only occasionally. She loved the water, knew just how to explore it to her liking, and couldn't wait to climb on and ride any floating device presented to her.
I loved bringing my girls along for a spontaneous summer adventure. I loved leading them into the water and giggling at the cold. I loved checking on them and seeing a game of "let's make swamp soup" in progress. I loved having the dog clean up every dropped chip or sandwich crust. I loved looking at my girls' faces the first time a dragonfly landed on one's arm. I loved showing them that it's OK to go to bed with black feet and un-brushed teeth after falling asleep in the van on the drive home.
Suddenly it's Sunday night, there's a school lunch to prepare, laundry to wash, a dresser to re-paint, protein balls to make for the week, and I really should do something about those dust/hair fluffs all over the floor. How I long to be back in an Adirondack chair with a beer-garita, a lovely cross between a beer and a margarita that my friend's husband created today.