Spontaneity

Weekends are such a treat when you don't overbook yourself. It took me a long time to understand this, when my husband would complain that we always tried to do too much, that it wasn't doing nothing that he was after, but just leaving room for possibility and seeing what evolves. Sometimes what evolves is a long walk to the paint store to pick out the new color for the house. Sometimes it's stopping every four feet along the creek to throw in rocks and redwood needles and gum nuts and wave goodbye. Sometimes it's deciding to go back to Little Farm for the second time in two weeks for a run for mommy and daddy and a visit with the animals for Jack. Sometimes deciding things spontaneously means you didn't actually check the schedule and therefore get there ten minutes after closing time so all the animals are put to bed. (That's where the planner in me says: Told you so!) But sometimes you don't need farm animals to have a great time. Not when there are stumps to climb on and windmills to ogle and wild turkeys to chase.

My sister thinks Jack is very serious. I am trying to do a better job of getting photographic evidence of what a goofball he is.

The next day, in a similar vein, although with slightly more advanced planning, we took Jack out to Fort Baker, to give him a great view of the city on an absolutely stunning day where something very important was happening. There was a lot of pointing and gesticulating that transpired.



Here's what Jack was looking at.

San Francisco's Fleet Week. The Blue Angels did their thing, carving up the sky with their jet trails, rumbling our tummies as they flew overhead, and generally blowing Jack's mind. If he was excited about planes before, he's obsessed now.