Spring has sprung

At least it sprang on Saturday, then kept on springing away to warmer climates--apparently. (Sorry, dad, if that grammar is wrong--spring/sprang/sprung like sing/sang/sung???) Anyway, a record breaker for the Seattle area as the warmest April 12th EVER. You better believe we got out of the house to enjoy it. 

There is a great little park nearby on the shores of American Lake. The kids love it, and so do I. As is true with almost all parks, the playground equipment is hardly the attraction (my kids would rather find poisonous berries and make potions, or play chase and run laps around said equipment). At this particular park on this particular gorgeous day, the highlight was wading in the lake and building a canal in the dirt. We had fun, and the weather made us even more anxious for Spring to come for good.

My dream boy. I'd have many more if I knew they'd be like him.

Lincoln is thinking, "What am I doing on this slide when I should be over there in the dirt?" It didn't take him long to join his sister.

This pic is proof that she started out clean and dry.

Great canal, huh? Aubrey was pretty much the self-appointed project manager for this one.

This is what happens when Mommy leaves Jace to go take pictures of the big kids. Yes, he really was eating the dirt. No, I don't think he's a Pica kid.

Lincoln was afraid to go near the water at the beginning, but he obviously got over it. And what a great smile!!

She said to me, "Mommy, it feels good to dunk my head under." I'd say she got a little more than just her head.

 

Really, does everything have to go in his mouth? He is probably wishing this were a real popsicle.

My favorite talk from General Conference was by Elder M. Russell Ballard. I knew I needed to listen up when he started out with a mother's hindsight:

"The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make .  . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

How true is that? I am thankful that on this stunning, quasi-Spring day, I was able to "treasure the doing."