Annie arrived in a storm, and she left in a storm, but in-between it was sunny. Buckaroo tried to chase Annie's car down the road as she drove away; perhaps he knew that she was taking the light with her.We did go out in the rain, though, because we must. Sometimes there's just not enough room in a knotty-pined house for one lonely mama and her antsy toddler. Buckaroo has added a new word to his vocabulary: "beach," except that it sounds very much like another B-word. So with one simple word he requests to go to the beach and tells me what he thinks of me when I don't take him there.
The beach next to ours is surrounded by flower pots, usually filled with water. I empty them regularly because Buckaroo likes to splash in them. Today I went to empty them, and there was something growing in there, and they weren't of the vegetable variety. They looked like the tiniest tadpoles ever, but when I Googled photos of tadpoles they didn't match quite right-- too chubby. My tadpole-thingies are about a quarter of an inch long, black, and skinny as thread. To motor themselves across the flower pot they do a little inch worm kind of break dance.
The conundrum is whether or not to leave them where they are. Did the mama know she was leaving them in a flower pot and not small body of water? I considered releasing them into the lake, but what if they are evil?
It's a regular pickle.
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