Watermelon Watermelon

Just saying watermelon makes me smile.  Try it.  Are you smiling?

This is the Watermelon Trance similar in look and feel to the food coma
one experiences after eating Thanksgiving dinner.

Are you smiling now?  I will never again say watermelon without these images popping into my head.  Nearly three-year-old Channing enjoying a juicy, red slice of summer.  One of those evenings you want to bottle up and keep forever and ever.  

I’ve been waiting all summer to take these pictures.  Channing + watermelon = one sticky, sweet mess of cuteness.  He couldn’t quite figure out how to hold that wedge, choosing to keep his hands balled into fists at times.  The tilt of the head was the same, regardless of the slice.  And he enjoyed every last bite.  Every.  Last.  Bite. 

Then we moved on to summersaults in the grass.  I will refrain from sharing the photos Channing took of me.  Mostly, they're just trees and sky.  His aim was a little off.  He did get one nice shot of my mid-section, shirt sliding toward my armpits as I stood on my head.  Ha!

Followed by bubble blowing on the porch.  If you’re particularly observant, you may just notice Channing’s secret hiding space for his bubble factory as you pass through our front door.  He’s been stashing his bottle of bubbles in there for several weeks now. 

Now that we’ve neighbors next door and it’s someone else’s turn to water the heck out of their new sod, it’s that much more enjoyable to play in the pools of run-off that collect on the sidewalk, especially when you can dig just one little finger into the crack where lawn meets concrete and come up with a gooey muddy mess time after time. 

Each time he’d pull his finger out, he’d prompt me to shriek, ‘Eeewwww!  Gross!!!!’ and laugh as he rinsed it clean in the puddle before doing it again.  And again.  And again.  And yet again.  

I know.  I know.  Random toe photo to wrap up this post.  They're cute though.  I couldn't resist sharing.  Don't you want to just give 'em a quick nibble?  

Up-Down, 'Round and 'Round

Wednesday this week, we found ourselves at Como Park with Kendra and Libby.  There was a flurry of text messages just prior.  A 'what day are you free this week?' followed by a confirmation of time, date and place.  Zoo photos never turn out the way they do in my head.  They're noisy and taken from bad angles and do little to convey the awe and wonder on little faces as big, big, giant animals mostly just sit and stare back.  

However, if you give this kid a foot-long corn dog.  Well, you can see for yourself.  It's pure pleasure with extra ketchup making for one very blog worthy photo.

Our impromptu picnic wrapped up with a mini facial mid-Gogurt for Kendra and was followed by a ride on the carousel.  

Channing excitedly held onto his ticket while waiting his turn in line.  Once he got up on his horse though, his excitement wavered a little.  As he went up-down and round and round, he reached his little arms around my neck, trying to climb down once or twice.  

Of course, as soon as the ride was over he asked to do it again.  As usual, my answer was, 'we will little buddy.  we will.'

Dougalina

While making dinner the other night, I was trying to explain to Channing that Auntie Jenn, who was here visiting for the weekend, is having a baby come October.  By the time this conversation ended, Channing was proudly standing on his kitchen stool proudly rubbing his own pregnant belly.  I made a mental note to take a picture of Jenn and Channing together, belly to belly during their visit.  It didn't happen.  We were busy.  Very busy.

We grilled out a few times, enjoying the patio and backyard at Sarah and Jesse's.  

Sarah and Jesse arranged for us to go out on a pontoon on Prior Lake. 

While the gentlemen minus Papa spent a morning on the golf course, the rest of the group walked to a nearby park to burn off a little extra energy.

The big guys didn't get enough friendly competition in on the golf course so they played beerbee that same evening.  

And, then as quickly as it came, it was over.  In a flurry of hugs, kisses and promises to Skype soon, goodbye was said.  They'll be back come December for our annual holiday gathering, little Dougalina in tow.  Oh yes.  They're having a girl and my dad decided he is the namesake.  He's having a little trouble convincing Jenn and Jay of this.  I cannot imagine why.    

The Letter F

Today's post is brought to you by the letter F.


These sweet little feet are just that much cuter in footie pajamas and then crammed into sandals.  Perhaps it's the stripes.  There is just something about them that makes a person happy. 

OK.  They make Channing happy in a way that results in a bubble factory frolic across the front lawn.

All the while, I was enjoying a morning latte on the porch and perusing the pages of my favorite magazine, Fresh Home.  If you've never read it, do.  You'll enjoy it too.  I just know it.

One of those pretty, little bubbles just happened to settle on this mushroom, err fungi.  

Said fungi, that took up residence at the base of our new flag.  Kelly found it for us on Etsy.  Darling isn't it?  We've definitely staked our claim now.  Definitely.

Wedded Bliss

The happy couple has honeymooned and returned yet this blog has yet to give mention of the happy day or share any photos.  (Please accept my sincere apologies.  There have been a few technical difficulties as of late.) Without further ado, I present to you Mr. & Mrs. Joseph Flynn:  

That's my version of them anyway. I was in charge of making the cake topper.  Let's just say, putting a tux and a wedding gown on a wooden clothes pin is not the easiest task.  

Channing had so much fun at the wedding, he woke up the following morning and asked, 'Me go a Joey and Cassie's wedding again today?'  To say he had fun is an understatement.  That kid, with a little help from his sidekick Anderson, stole the show.  

The rest of us may have had a little fun too.  

To Joe & Cassie, I hope your marriage is modern enough to endure today's challenges yet timeless enough to last forever.  Congratulations.