Each week, Cal and I go to a playgroup with the other young kids (and their moms) from my church congregation. (For those of you who remember the great egg disaster from last week, Park Day was the activity we were trying to get to.)
I'm sort of in charge (an easily-replaceable kind of "in charge") of organizing Park Days, and as the weather started to get colder, I entertained thoughts of canceling it until next summer. I'm so glad the group decided not to do that. Now, more than ever, our kids all need to get outside! Cal is so restless and squirmy all day, now that we're not going outside as much. I know, I know -- all you Utah & Canada residents are probably freaking out at me right now. Yes, we do enjoy a much milder climate in California, but it's only natural to want to stay indoors when there is a chill in the air.
But for the last several weeks, I've bundled Cal up and we've headed out to a park with our friends. It's been a great way to let Cal wiggle and run and climb to his heart's content, and to let ME get some much-needed adult conversation. I really love Park Days.
The title of this post is related to the fact that, sometimes, I forget that I have a BOY on my hands. This week, Cal and the other boys found the only 20-sq-ft patch of dirt in the whole grassy expanse of the park. The discovery was followed by digging...
...digging...
...and more digging.
Of course, he found a stick:
When we got home, I had to throw all of his clothes in the laundry, and he got a bath -- so much dirt, everywhere!
Then, the party moved to the jungle gym:
Love seeing my little boy play with "the guys" -- and we love Park Day.
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