Nylons and Tadpoles

These halcyon days make me want to be a kid again. Amidst all the laundry, dishes, spills and messes I long for running barefoot, climbing trees and playing 'til the sun goes down. But I caution myself lest the neighbors think I've lost it and call the cops because I'm running down the field with a makeshift cape and twirlers.

The joy I see in my kids is so amazing. I can't remember the last time my emotions were displayed at max. Where is the line between childhood expression and adult suppression? I look at the faces of my children and hope that their spirits are never crushed. I wonder how to reclaim a little of what they have...

So, when my daughter came sloshing up from the pond with one giant frog and a baby tadpole in her hands, I knew that I had to remember these days for all time. Decked out in pink with a tiny braid in her hair, shorts and pink puddle-jumpers, my daughter added her new pets to the already growing frog population on our property. Meanwhile her brother and sister were content to hit golf balls in the setting sun.

Today the golfers decided to join the marine biologist at the pond. They requested some old nylons this time, white ones no less in order to see better, and are hoping to catch a gazillion tadpoles to care for.

My husband says I better stop writing about it and go experience it. So, I'll throw caution to the wind, take off my shoes and run down to the pond and play with my kids. I may put on a superhero cape for good measure, and if the neighbors call the cops...so be it.