Today was Jorja's last day of preschool (except for the full-day year end party next week) and as part of the celebration, there were balloons. They each got to take one balloon home, which wouldn't be that bad if you weren't walking a couple of blocks in a strong wind. We were walking home and I was pulling the wagon with Ginny and CeCe in it and Jorja was walking, clutching her balloon. We were actually talking about the 'mortality' of balloons and that they are fun to play with for a while, but don't last that long. Sometimes they pop, sometimes they just go flat, but they don't last forever. We had no sooner finished this talk than the balloon got away from her, and it went flying (I'm lucky it wasn't filled with helium). Oh, the irony. For one brief moment, she looked as though she would be okay with losing it, and then the reality of the situation set in and she started to cry. I'm talking about the talk-show type 'ugly cry'. It was loud and it was strong. Then for whatever reason, I decided to abandon the two children in the wagon (don't worry, I told Ginny to stay there) and chase down the balloon. It was going pretty good, but I was gaining on it, until I saw the bus. It narrowly escaped and paused briefly and then took off in a wild swirl in the wake of the bus. Now it was in the middle of a busy street. Another truck was coming, but I went for it, and a couple of houses past the busy street, I got it. I then turned around and realized how far I was away from the wagon, which Ginny was still sitting in much to my surprise. I ran back, and held the balloon for the rest of the walk home. This same balloon is now wedged in behind the computer desk and virtually forgotten about. But I got it.
I fired up the rototiller during preschool today, and it worked great. I got quite a bit done, but three years of neglect makes for some pretty tough going. It looks good now though, ready for some veggies.
Julie made spaghetti and sauce for supper tonight (she make great spaghetti sauce). We don't usually eat actual spaghetti, it's usually rotini or something, but tonight it was spaghetti. The girls had way too much fun eating it. Julie and I were long done, the table was all cleared, dishwasher loaded, and the two of them were still sitting there picking up one noodle at a time, holding it up and sucking it in. They were laughing and giggling and having a gay old time. They were probably there 20 minutes after we were done.
Jorja, Ginny and I went for a walk after supper. We were talking about dandelions, and how they go from yellow to white and to seed. She found this quite interesting and then she switched the conversation to mosquitoes. She told me that you only had to worry about the girl ones, the boy ones wouldn't bite you. I asked her how she new this. She replied that it was just something she knew. Then she said, "One Thursday when I was three, me and Mommy were just having a talk about bugs and mosquitoes, so that's how I know." All right then.
Have a good long weekend. Later.