Spinning In Their Underpants On A Sunday Morning

And really what could be finer than a family dance in Papa's arms?  Amidst clean-up, tidying, "out with the old" we like to throw in a little twirling to lift the spirits of our workers bees.  And with a child firmly tucked into each forearm (or sliding out of, in Gaber's case) there truly is fun to be had in your smallness, in your portability, and in your being in your underpantsness.

A quiet weekend was had by all of us here in Hopkinsland.  A little socializing, a whole lots of banging around like sardines in a tin can as the rains fell.  But oh how my gardens adore that rain, and oh how I adore being inside bouncing around with this particular lot.  If only we'd remembered to bake bread while it was still raining...