O & Z 5 months old

LZW

Snapshot of a darn good kid.

father's day

He awoke a little later than usual, to a sweet card from his son, a big hug, squawking babies and a breakfast made by my own father. And then Grama and Grampa headed back to Z Farm and we piled into the van to fulfill John's father's day wish....

....to visit his own father.

It was a wonderful day, full of fathers and children and grandchildren (and mothers and grandmothers too). I feel very blessed to have enjoyed the patience and love and endless support of my own father and the kindness and generosity of my father-in-law.  And I know that I am incredibly lucky to have this smart, steadfast, loyal, warm (and terribly handsome) father of three choose to make his life with me. Happy Father's Day.

Z grandparents

In town this weekend for our film series kickoff event Grama and Grampa got in some couch time.

baby salesmen

Am I above using these babies to sell our new film society T-shirts? Nope. 

(And anyway, they thought it was fun. Thanks V for the lovely printing!)

TV

Lincoln doesn't really watch a broad range of television. He's always preferred to study each and every minute detail from one particular series, and, if you gave him a choice, would re-watch episodes from a single series so many times his brain would start trickling out of his ears. He is a binge watcher, no doubt about it. And if we didn't set drastic limits on the amount of time be spends before the screen I'm not sure he'd ever see the sun again. When he finds something that speaks to him, his eyes don't roam. When he was 2 it was Little Bear and nothing else, despite our best efforts to introduce his developing brain to a little variety. When that wore out it was BusyTown Mysteries, followed by a brief affair with Dinosaur Train. These three shows have lasted nearly a year and a half. Three shows. For over a year.

But today, he has fallen instantly in love with number four. To be fair, it was probably the period costumes that nabbed him. But here we are on a Sunday, two exhausted parents, two fussy babies and a kid "searching for a hero to idolize / feeling the pain as innocence dies" via the revolutionary war epic Liberty's Kids.

The Silver Lady

Z got a little gift in the mail all the way from California: a little mini California Zephyr  packed in a small paper box full of original tickets.  She thought they were pretty cool. Or, rather, I thought they were pretty cool. She mostly just tried to eat them. Thank you JK & JH for adding a smile to my day! These are going in a little frame on her wall.

the quiet after the storm

mother of three

Twin babies and a theatrical kid. And me. A mother of three. (But, truth be told, I often feel like I'm the one wearing the costume.)

strawberry harvest

A little basket full today, from his own back yard.

down the aisle

We took our first trip without Orson and Zephyr in tow this weekend, thanks to the kindness of my parents and sister.  They took over the all-hours tending duties while John and I and Lincoln packed into the car and headed to the D.C. area for cousin Andrew and Emily's wedding. This was Linc's first time down the aisle, and first time away from the crying and endless attention deficits that define our daily rhythms these days...and he was excited about it.

He rehearsed on Friday, along with a gaggle of cousins and friends. Anna and Rose (below), Oscar, Julia and Bess all walked the aisle with him.

And he got all dressed up on Saturday evening.

And entertained a large audience in the church with glee.

He sat as still as he could during the ceremony and celebrated afterwards with his partner in crime.

But it was anything goes at the reception.

Which found him immediately unbuttoned, shoeless, covered in dirt and on the dance floor.

By the end of the night he was up on the stage with the band, jamming with his cousins and so delirious with glee that the vocalist had to keep pulling him back from an edge and staircase that clearly had his name on it. When I finally pulled him down myself he hugged me tight, looked madly about him with a wild smile, and then, in a fatigued voice,  requested that we go to bed now. 

The next morning he awoke and promptly donned his old tophat for breakfast goofiness with Gram and all the W brothers and cousins. 

After which we packed up all three of his traveling hats and headed back to our regular life, tired and happy.

presidents and hats

It was hot. The statue was tall, and, thankfully, in the shade. A tip of the bowler to you Mr. Lincoln.

What did he like the most about our trip into the city? The statue? The fountains? The ship replica at the Museum of American History? Nope. It was the costumes by a landslide. Andrew Jackson's coat took first, with his sword coming in a close second. Sorry, ghost of Abram Lincoln. If it makes you feel any better, he spent much of the day pointing out every photograph, drawing or statue of George Washington that we passed. He's a lover of many presidents. Or rather, a lover of the formal garb of a certain few decades in history. And anyway, when faced with a choice between a tri-corner hat or a more presidential version of a top hat in the gift shop, his Lincoln fidelity returned. And so a new, taller, top hat rested on his knee as he slept on the ride back to the hotel. And it even enjoyed a few appearances on his head as well.