Summer Day 9/5: Labor Day
Last day of summer. We spent the day close to home, and made a trip to Pier One to buy new bedroom furniture. Fall brings two home renovation projects: a small renovation of our bedroom, with new windows, paint, furniture, and carpet; plus a larger renovation of our basement, involving a full demo and brand-new everything, including a bathroom and laundry room. Nothing will be as disruptive as our kitchen renovation, so we're excited to get these started.
Otherwise, the girls just played. Last day of summer. By evening, Lucia was jumping up and down with excitement about starting first grade.
I'm very glad I did this (more or less) daily blog this summer. In June, the summer seemed like it stretched ahead endlessly--the first couple of days really threw me for a loop, with both kids home all day, and no time to myself at all. But we hit our stride as the days went on (though I never did get any time to myself). The first half of the summer was somewhat of a trial, with lots of bickering and Greta's insane "fisherman" whining; we reached our nadir during our week in Connellsville, with the Pinkie Pie Sweet Shop debacle. But that proved to be a reckoning, and our summer from that point on was markedly different.
Now the "fisherman" is kind of a family joke--now and then Greta will pretend to whine, and we'll theatrically say oh, no, the fisherman is coming, and Greta very forcefully orders us not to say it--not to say "fisherman." As though speaking the name will summon him/it. Still super, super strange and vaguely disturbing. But on we go.
Otherwise, the girls just played. Last day of summer. By evening, Lucia was jumping up and down with excitement about starting first grade.
I'm very glad I did this (more or less) daily blog this summer. In June, the summer seemed like it stretched ahead endlessly--the first couple of days really threw me for a loop, with both kids home all day, and no time to myself at all. But we hit our stride as the days went on (though I never did get any time to myself). The first half of the summer was somewhat of a trial, with lots of bickering and Greta's insane "fisherman" whining; we reached our nadir during our week in Connellsville, with the Pinkie Pie Sweet Shop debacle. But that proved to be a reckoning, and our summer from that point on was markedly different.
Now the "fisherman" is kind of a family joke--now and then Greta will pretend to whine, and we'll theatrically say oh, no, the fisherman is coming, and Greta very forcefully orders us not to say it--not to say "fisherman." As though speaking the name will summon him/it. Still super, super strange and vaguely disturbing. But on we go.
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