Today’s unpacking marathon revealed treasure in the middle of one box: the small plastic shark and orca that Beanie and Rose love as dearly as if they were made of a precious material like, say, chocolate.
Of course this meant they had to take a bath RIGHT AWAY OH PLEEEEASE MOMMY. Since we’d spent an hour in the middle of the afternoon at a local park, where there was actual SAND on the ground instead of that spongy recycled tire product used on our favorite playground in Virginia, I enthusiastically supported the bath idea.
So there I was washing grit out of Beanie’s curls while her shark made shark-like lunges at Rose’s orca. Beanie was singing, and it took me a minute to realize I was hearing one of Scott’s favorite Beatles melodies.
"What did you just sing?" I asked Bean.
"It wasn’t me," she said. "It was my shark."
"Oh. Right. Could he sing it again?"
"He’d be delighted to!" When you’re Beanie, even sharks are obliging. She lunged him at the orca again, singing louder.
"I wanna hold your fi-i-iiin, I wanna hold your fin!"
Best Thing Ever
In Which My Mattress Springs Heave a Sigh of Relief
Heads of the Class
A Bean by Any Other Name Would Be as Sweet