Holy tantrum, Batman! You should hear Oliver wailing and freaking out because he cannot draw a playground "as good as Jack." Never before has either child attempted to draw a playground, and five minutes in, Ol has slug-like boogers and tears streaming down his face because his swing set looks like multiple pairs of boobs hanging off of a pole (that's what it looks like to me; I told him that thinking the word "boobs" might make him laugh but it didn't seem to work). Top left: a swing (?) and a bumpy slide that I tried to fix for him and which he promptly scribbled out. Top right: slide and boob poles (his swing; seriously?). Bottom: Jack's swing for Ol and Oliver's slide which now looks like a billowing smoke stack.
Jack is taking every opportunity to avoid cleaning up the Legos that are so seriously out of their boxes that it appears he's got a new floor in his room, but one that really hurts to walk on. They're both in superhero underpants, and we've been up for three hours.
In the meantime, I made a batch of comfort ricotta, now draining, and managed to get T excited about organizing and shredding! Yoga in T minus 1 hour peeps.
As you may recall, my parents live in SW Louisiana and their yard backs into a bayou, Contraband Bayou. Though there are more alligators than I'd like, the birds are incredible and beautiful. Look at this egret my mom's neighbor snapped!