I speak picturish

Camping with the Mole

'Mommy, how old were you when you went camping for the first time?'
'About three ...Why?'
'Do you know I'll be FIVE in September and you never took me camping??!! And I don't mean camping in the backyard, because that's not real.'

The philosopher in me wanted to ask her more about what exactly is "real" and I figured that the accent was on my taking her, and nowhere else. She didn't want to plan a trip, to talk about it, to convince me of anything. She just wanted out of the house (and the yard, for that matter... Ahem.) And while I can very well understand her fascination for tents, backpacks and the rest of the camping gear, I find it hard to squeeze a short trip in the mountains at the moment. Because it was in the mountains that I went camping until not so long ago.

So what do we do? We improvise!

We go camping by the sea. (And what a lovely idea it proved to be.)

A chance for us all to...
... go about pointlessly, but barefoot.

... play with whatever, except for the toys

... taste the coffee with a special flavor of sand

... read or draw for half a day

... stay up late to see the lanterns and the bonfire on the beach

AND to wake up early the next day for a very good reason

 Oh, yes, let's not forget: the Mole was with us once more.

And on our way back, THE question popped: ' When can we go again camping?'

Soon, I hope.

I speak picturish

Let the siblings be

Weekends are busy times for us here, but in the good way. So the perspective of reading a book (or some of it) could be very appealing for me. It's then that I could indulge myself in longer periods of time spent close to my children but so far away in the same time.

So I get my book and sink low in the armchair as I hear somewhere around me the tweeting of my kids playing. I hear them playing for a long time. Staging stories they know, making up new ones, he's teaching her how to draw I-don't know-what and she's showing him how to heal this or that stuffed animal.

And all of a sudden nothing fits anymore. There's shouting and I can hear things going in all directions.
It's never the one who's crying's  fault.
 It's not the other one's fault either.
It's always the other one who starts the fight.
And personal experience tells me that if I end up punishing only one of them, I always get the innocent one. Well...almost always. (and the degree of innocence is highly debatable at that point)
The injustice is spelled out even louder, but soon enough I hear one of them giggling.

And then a new game starts...

I'm not sure what they'll remember of this part (and these moments) of their lives, but as long as they're taking turns in winning the upper hand over the other one, I'm pretty sure I should let my siblings be...

And read my book.

I speak picturish

Busy day

Extended family trips bring a lot of joy both to little ones and grown ups. This time the place didn't involve grass and playing hide - and-seek behind the trees. And strangely enough, as I was to discover, the beach is still full of wonders even when you have it 50 m outside your front door the whole year round.

Following a good habit I insist that going out shouldn't always involve sandwiches and biscuits. I can promise you that, even the chat is better around the baking dish. And I have also noticed my kids kept coming back without being called...hmmm

 Well, some worked harder...

and others hardly worked at all,

but at the end of the day I was listening to the plea: "We can't go now. There are so many things we HAVE TO do..."

And so I've seen once more that wide spaces have that strange power of bringing people closer and taming the siblings issues.

We did get back.

But only late in the night.

I speak picturish

"I am..."

"Ich bin eine Prinzessin..." she said when she left the classroom at noon.

And that was it. Everything she did that day required a royal attitude, the little finger raised occasionally and the paper crown on her head - all the time.

And so dinner time found me with a very select company in my kitchen, working for her meal (rolling pancakes) and singing: Backe, Backe Kuchen...

Storytime in real lifetime.