This is another Trevorcentric episode of "Stuff". Clara, being the social butterfly that she is, has been overloaded with birthday parties and get-togethers lately. And for the past three days, Chad has been digging a giant hole at our Oakland house, trying to remove 8000 tangled redwood roots from the sewage pipes. Good, clean, outdoor fun! So Trevi and I have been hanging out. Today, after dropping Clara off at the latest shindig, we decided to find a new park. The one we found was full of rosemary bushes. Rosemary has been among Trevor's favorite plants for some time now, although, until very recently, he called it, "nosemary". We thought that was so cute (and such an appropriate name for something so aromatic), so we tried to keep everyone from cluing him in on the actual pronunciation. Don't know exactly how he found out the truth, but now he just calls it, "rosemary", like everyone else. Rats.
We spent a good deal of time walking in and around the rosemary bushes at the park, smelling and tasting the leaves, and collecting a few flowers. Then Trevi found a little bouncy ball, and we bounced it into the bushes and went searching for it over and over, until we both were so thoroughly seasoned that you could have used us to marinate some chicken.
As we drove off to pick up Clara, Trevor said, "We can call this park, NNNNNosemary Park if you want to, Mommy." He is so good to me. :)
Later on, after dinner, Clara decided to give Trevor a lesson in painting with watercolors. I love these quiet moments between them, where Trevor accepts the role of obedient student, as a trade-off for his beloved sister's complete attention.
The peace is usually short-lived, though, as Trevor is not all that into tyranny, and Clara has zero tolerance for noncompliance. When Trevor decided that he wanted to move his own hand where he wanted it to go, Clara decided that she would take her watercolors away, at which point Trevor decided that he would throw the tiny paint brush at his sister's head, prompting her to shout, "I'm never going to let you use my paints again!", which led to a wail of despair from the tortured young artist, resulting in me telling them both to go brush their teeth NOW, or the paints were going to be MINE. So we were all feeling pretty ornary at that point. But it was nothing that a few bedtime stories couldn't cure. Thank goodness for bedtime stories.
We spent a good deal of time walking in and around the rosemary bushes at the park, smelling and tasting the leaves, and collecting a few flowers. Then Trevi found a little bouncy ball, and we bounced it into the bushes and went searching for it over and over, until we both were so thoroughly seasoned that you could have used us to marinate some chicken.
As we drove off to pick up Clara, Trevor said, "We can call this park, NNNNNosemary Park if you want to, Mommy." He is so good to me. :)
Later on, after dinner, Clara decided to give Trevor a lesson in painting with watercolors. I love these quiet moments between them, where Trevor accepts the role of obedient student, as a trade-off for his beloved sister's complete attention.
The peace is usually short-lived, though, as Trevor is not all that into tyranny, and Clara has zero tolerance for noncompliance. When Trevor decided that he wanted to move his own hand where he wanted it to go, Clara decided that she would take her watercolors away, at which point Trevor decided that he would throw the tiny paint brush at his sister's head, prompting her to shout, "I'm never going to let you use my paints again!", which led to a wail of despair from the tortured young artist, resulting in me telling them both to go brush their teeth NOW, or the paints were going to be MINE. So we were all feeling pretty ornary at that point. But it was nothing that a few bedtime stories couldn't cure. Thank goodness for bedtime stories.
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