...where I transcribe that bit of who my kids are today.
Zee's* got a heart of the most tender variety. On February 14th, he crafted a valentine from newsprint, complete with a fold-out secret message, and he galloped across the living room to hand it to me. When he smiles, his eyes are a lambent blue.
At the supermarket, Em wanted to be sure Daddy wasn't getting the juice that "makes [his] mouth hot." Apparently orange pulp is not his thing.
Our oldest son is our in-house comedian. At dinner, he was showcasing his invisible bee and Joe, the imaginary guy who was about to be stung. Hmmmn. I vote he gets it from his father.
Sometimes when I'm reading, Elle will wriggle her little self between the flannel sheets. She finds it secretly hilarious to be stealing Daddy's spot, lying on his pillow. She threads my hair through her tubby hands and sings a rendition of Barney's we-all-love-each-other song that's fourteen types of adorable.
Slow-Cooker Apple Butter
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