We woke to the sound of heavy rain on Saturday. My first two thoughts were: 1. From the sound of that rain, we might need to build an ark and 2. Poor Melissa! What a weekend to be at a Beaver camp. The latter led me back to a conversation we’d had about Reid joining Sparks or Beavers next year. I have no real experience with Girl Guides or Scouts – other than attending a couple Brownie meetings with Janet – but I want Reid to try it out. Aunt Pam’s kids certainly seemed to get a lot out of Scouts. We’ll need to figure out whether Reid is a Spark or Beaver, though.
The rain didn’t affect our plan, though. Reid and I braved the weather to go out for breakfast and then we had work to do in the basement. And we actually did it. I moved some of my stuff up to the guest room that will double as my “space” (office sounds too much like work) and some of Ken’s things down to his “study” (again, I have the problem with work). Ken worked to set up his area and he and I both carried quite a few things up to the garage to be given away. Reid played quite autonomously – something that is happening more and more often, though not always when we need it as much as we did on Saturday. I learned the word for “to get rid of” last week and I’ve used it quite a few times and will continue to need it, I hope.
Reid and I went to have our picture taken on Sunday morning. She’d sat patiently while I braided her hair and accepted the dress I’d chosen and so I was very much surprised when she began to cry when we sat down on the bench outside the photo studio. She didn’t want her picture taken that day, she said. Well, we tried a couple shots of just me and eventually enticed Reid to join me. We ended up with a couple of good shots but nothing as cool as the pic of Ken and Reid’s silly-faces. But maybe I’m too self-critical.
Bruno stopped by just as we were getting ready to plant potatoes. He helped for awhile even though he was quite concerned they were poisonous because they’d sprouted. I’m not sure if it was my limited French vocabulary or his strong preconception but he wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of the undertaking even at the end. Reid was disappointed when Bruno left only a short visit even though she doesn’t speak directly with him. She asks me (many times), “What are you saying to him?” and also “What did he say to you?” Bruno mostly watches what Reid is doing with casual interest and doesn’t ask what she says. I suspect he grasps much of what I say to her.
I made curry for supper with whole grain rice. My better half was considering a rebellion over the rice, I think, but Reid didn’t object. As she sometimes asks for a ridiculous amount of rice (or spaghetti), I’m trying to switch her to the whole wheat stuff. Since we had made rhubarb mini-cupcakes before supper, we had dessert for a change. I wouldn’t recommend mini-cupcakes to anyone baking with a kid who likes to put the batter in the cups as it’s quite difficult to get just the small amount of batter required into the cup. That said, Reid loved the tinyness of the cupcakes and I think she’ll lobby hard to use them again.
In addition to the mini-cupcakes that Reid and I made together, I baked a pie on Sunday. I mention that it was I who made the pie because Reid had intended to help and had, in fact, helped make the dough. Ken intervened when it became apparent that I was having trouble with the dough and Reid was having trouble getting her turn to roll it. I’ve made pie dough before but it’s been years since then. I never could have imagined a softer dough – it was like brand new Playdough, the real stuff, not homemade. After a few colourful comments and a few attemps, I got the bottom crust in the pieplate and then added my rhubarb. The top crust required the same combination of attitude and effort. And *I* had worried that Reid’s assistance in making the dough itself would lead to tough crusts. The fun continued when I turned the oven off rather than turning it down 25 degrees. The poor pie didn’t come out of the oven until Reid was in bed (by which I mean “lying on the floor” since she has decided to sleep on the floor again).
Of course, the pie coming out of the oven so late meant that we weren’t able to eat any Sunday night. Reid and I addressed this further insult to the pie on Monday morning by eating a piece for breakfast. It’s true! I’m shameless about it. Grandma Joyce knows I eat pie for breakfast. I’m not afraid to tell you I do. (Ken does it rarely, perhaps because I don’t make the kinds of pie he favours often enough.) Reid thoroughly enjoyed her rhubarb pie and tried to exchange a lovely smile for a second piece. My mama guilt kicked in and I told her she had to drink her milk and choose a piece of fruit instead. It only *seems* that Reid makes all of the decisions.
All in all, it was an enjoyable weekend. Really, how could it not be, having started with an hour of snuggling and reading in bed and ending with pie for breakfast? While Saturday morning was very wet, there was only a bit of rain on Sunday, for all the skies threatened. The only rain that fell on us came when we were nearly back from our walk to pick up the photos. All this to say that we didn’t need the ark and had a good time despite cloudy skies.
.” I immediately knew the illustration to which she referred. She was right. It did look just like