Fatherly Love

When I was little, we went to the beach every year. And every time we went, my dad built sand castles, took me in the ocean and, once every trip, he dug a fabulous tunnel in the sand.
I didn't know until years later that my dad actually hates sand. Passionately hates it. Learning that was one of the first things that made me start to understand what being a parent - a really good parent - really means, and how much my dad loved (well, loves) me and wanted me to be happy.
On our way home on the Metro on Wednesday night, Brian played with Christopher while I read. After a few minutes, he said quietly "Look at this."
Brian's arm was covered in farm stickers. Christopher was taking them out of his sticker book and putting them on Brian's arm while he worked on finding the right pictures to match them to.
Brian hates stickers more than just about anything in the world. But he was just sitting quietly and watching Christopher put stickers on his arm and take them off again and not even flinching. I felt like my mom must have when she watched my dad, elbow deep in sand and not letting on in any way that he wasn't too happy about it.
I didn't get a very good picture of the scene, but I'll always remember it.

Deer Lake

Everyone's been having adventures outdoors lately.
Yesterday, Christopher and I admired three deer in the woods behind our house. About an hour later, I took Heidi outside, with no leash, forgetting her affinity for deer. I watched as she walked, then jogged toward a suspicious scent, then flat-out ran after the one deer that had hung around. I was worried, but more entranced by the sight of her pursuing the beautiful deer. She was flying down the hill, tail flying, and even from the distance at which I stood I could see her eyes shining and her mouth opened in what seemed to be a smile. But no matter how fast she was, she was after an adult male deer, and she returned, defeated but still smiling, a few minutes later.
Today the four of us - Jack, Heidi Christopher and me - went to the park behind our house. I wanted to walk the dogs on the trail around the lake, but the idea was a disaster. They flew into the lake, leashes still on. They were so fast they almost tipped over the stroller, and Christopher promptly started crying. He wasn't upset or hurt; he wanted to go in the lake too. And he did - waded in about a foot to throw a stick to the dogs and promptly fell in. But he recovered, though his clothes still haven't - as you can see from the picture.