Waiting and waiting.

We built ourselves a super busy day today. We went to the farmer's market allllll morning

and then to a birthday party alllllll afternoon and into the evening. 

We have house guests coming tomorrow and the waiting just kills us dead. 

The grossest season.

It's caterpillar season. 

The season of Eleanor picking up like every caterpillar she sees 

and of me trying to hide how wholly repulsed I am. 

Ughhhhhhh. 

The melonist.

So this is melon.

It is for poking, I bet.

Or maybe you eat it?

Am I eating it right?

This is confuse.

Probably this is the bit for eats.

Is this not the eaty bit?

I'm gonna eat this melon real good, you just give me a few more tries.

This is how we read.

Book club.

Book club.

Book club.

Book club.

Book club. 

Book club.

Book club. 

Book club. 

Book club. 

Book club. 

Movie club.

Caked.

This weekend has been long and wearying. Do you want to see like thirty pictures of the baby eating her birthday cake? You do. It's almost criminal how perfect her face is.

Tentative sampling of cake.

Observing cake, reassessing strategy of cake. 

No-handsing cake.

Eyebrows-up?

Delighting in cake.

Poooooooking cake.

No-handsing cake again (Geneva. You have hands).

Cake-face.

Two-handsing cake.

Chomping cake.

CHOMPING cake.

Pfft, like I can't eat this whole cake.

But this is a lot of cake, though.

Would you like a bite of this cake? (It is one of her recent and great delights to hand you things.)

Doggedly eating garbled remains of cake.

A bit of a catch-up.

Baby in a bin.

Babies and their books.

Eleanor does this thing where she wants to have cheese for snack, but she has to put on her rat costume first.

Geneva does this thing where she thinks she's big and can do all the things.

Eleanor is my yoga partner.

Geneva in the car seat.

Eleanor in the car seat.

I've started letting Eleanor help in the kitchen again now that Geneva isn't a helpless sack of bones needing all my focus anymore, and she just wants to chop everything.

I love when babies fall asleep like, Fine, whatever, I don't even care anymore.

Eleanor just went into her room and closed the door and like twenty minutes later, called me in to see the house she'd built.

Geneva gets super angsty about baths but, I mean, come on, what am I supposed to do with this.

Look at these pixie bedhairs. 

Eleanor was out trying to learn to ride a bike with her dad and I had to cook dinner so I let Geneva loose in Eleanor's room. Don't tell.