when the clouds break on a warm November day

Sixty degrees at the end of November. God is kind to this Florida girl. The gray drizzle gave way to blue sky and sunshine, incentive to eat your lunch! so we can get outside.

Tamagn was contentedly sucking his thumb in the stroller until his big brothers started stomping that lovely muddy water. Why I bothered to roll his pants I do not know. He was the wettest of them all.

And soon a bigger puddle was found, it might classify as a small lake, and oh, they had fun! I'm glad none of the neighbors were out. I'm sure they'd have called CYS to report the neglectful mother letting her baby toddle in such filthy water. Hey, they are from Africa. Just a couple  of months ago I let them play on the floor of a plane outside the more filthy restroom for hours on end.

That flight changed me.

Permanently.

After Tamagn face-planted in the puddle for the third time we loaded up and booked it home for warm baths and beds.

I had Bereket all soaped up with sudsy baby wash, scrubbing those curls I love, and Josiah pipes up, "Hey Bereket, you look like a white man!"

When he's 16 he'll understand the humor in that.

 I figured after playing hard, baths, and going down for naps an hour later than usual I could count on some good sleepers.

Ha. Silly me.