Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Not Here Yet

I have a brand new lawn mower. It's so shiny and new I am scared to touch it. Oh I whipped out the owner's manual and read through it right away. I got it out of the box and assembled it. I even poured oil in the engine, but I didn't put on any of the attatchments. I may have mentioned before my phobia about engines springing to life and throwing out blades like a maniacal Ninja, not this year you say?, well now I've said it this year.

The day is a sunny 64 degrees Fahrenheit (ha! spelled right the first time, neener neener) and the children have been released from their sickbeds for the first time in days. Zoom, running around the yard that will soon be whipped into submission. Up the hill, down the hill. The Dog is herding them. The Muralist rediscovers the acoustical excellence of our front porch - loudly.

The Verbalist trots to the breezeway and grabs a shovel. He jauntily swings it up onto his shoulder (a dead ringer for the Dear Husband) and announces he is off on a hunt for buried treasure. I steer him to the garden plot which is over run with weeds and instruct him to dig there but he soon grows bored with it.

The Verbalist, Muralist and Infant get on bike, trike and scooty-scoot and ride around the driveway. Or, in the case of Infant, rock in place and let out shrill shrieks of impotent rage at the lack of velocity. The Muralist honks her horn everytime she rides by, infuriating the hornless Verbalist. Then they pounce off of bike and run in circles some more, cherry to pear to pine to hydrangea. The Infant is put down on a nap. I hear the water turn on and the dog resumes barking.

As if sensing a disturbance in the force the Muralist carols, "We're just giving the flowers a drink!" Sure they are. Stark Nekkid. Spring sunshine gleaming off blinding white winter skin. I walk, to the faucet. There is no need to run the damage is done, two soaking children and a soaking Dog, smiling her insane doggie smile. I herd children inside and run a hot bath and they are currently warming their bones in melon scented bubbles. The Dog laughing silently lays in the sunshine and soaks in the rays. Summer is not here yet but they are ready for it.

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