Countdown from 10 as I unbuckle the Kid from the carseat--like a spaceship countdown, because that's our game. Jiggle the lock to open the back gate. Grab the old quilt as we pass the porch, and spread it out one-handed because the other must keep the Kid pinned to my hip. Plunk him down in the center, singing a silly song as I run to check for eggs--beautiful chocolate colored eggs that make me grin big as I marvel over them in my hand.
Visit with the chickens. Mostly Etta, because she likes us. Giggle at the occaisional curious looks or nip from Bonnie. Knit while the Kid collects sticks and leaves. Keep knitting when he crawls over to help with the yarn. (Not actually as disasterous as it may sound.) Hear dada's scooter from three blocks away. Meet Sweet Husband's eyes with a smile, as the Kid crawls halfway across the yard--through the grass and dirt and who knows what else--to get swung through the air in greeting.
Herd the girls up for the night and let the dogs out. Porter sniffs. Moe finds a toy, and insists that Sweet Husband play fetch. The Kid watches intently, already interested in doing everything like Dad does.
It's my new favorite thing.