I have a confession to make: I’m not an “outside” person. Don’t get me wrong, I love those first few days of spring and summer that are sunny and warm. I love going outside for an hour or two in the afternoons and hanging out at the pool. I love walking around fall festivals in jeans and sweaters when the sun is shining but the air is crisp.
But? I’m not someone who can, or wants, to be outside all day. My husband? He is a bit of a sun slut. If he could get away with it, he’d be outside at the pool from 10AM until 6PM every day. At the beach, that’s pretty much exactly what he does. Me, on the other hand? I retreat to the couch for an afternoon nap under a blanket. Where I’m not hot, sweaty, sticky and sandy. Because if I’m hot, sweaty and sticky it better be from a workout that burned enough calories so I can have that piece of cheesecake.
To further make my point, rainy Sunday afternoons are my favorite thing. EVER.
The child? She apparently is going to be like her father and between the two of them, I see my afternoons on the couch coming to a rather rapid end.
OMG, do you SEE those handprints on my door??
At least three times a day, she stands at the door and pounds on it. POUNDS. With her tiny little palms slapping the glass and her little mouth running a mile a minute as she squeals, giggles and babbles at anything she sees. “GA- GA-GA!” she yells. After a few minutes, her squeals turn into little whines. Then to even louder whines. A few minutes after that, if I’m not lathering her with sunscreen and gathering up toys, she turns on the water works.
So, outside we go. Where she carefully places leaves in her tiny tea cups and investigates the stones and pebbles around the trees. Inside, she is constantly moving. From this toy to that book to walking around and around the chair. Outside, she is content, curious and calm. She laughs at the birds, waves to her PapPap and gets brave and stands to feel the grass between her toes.
She’s such a joy to watch as she discovers new things. Even though it means one more way that she’s Daddy’s girl and a few more sweaty afternoons for me.
Does sitting outside with my girl earn me cheesecake?










