This weekend we tried to burn the Christmas tree that Tom drug up from a neighbor's trash pile just to discover that those flame retardant chemicals really do work.
We sat in the kitchen peeling potatoes, sweet and white, with friends, while kids tussled in the next room over. And we all went to bed early, as we so frequently do, because putting babies asleep often kills the party. But the next morning we scrambled eggs to eat with leftovers and separated thin skinned friends before saying good byes nearly twenty hours after hellos.
This weekend we caught up with old friends, laughing about stories we've told and retold dozens of times. Supplying details for spouses who weren't there, all the while carefully doling out Valentine's Day candy to grubby little hands trying to take advantage of parental distraction.
This weekend we shared pancakes with pterodactyls and and played in a surprise snow storm. Tom and Arlo made the tiniest snow man. Sena swung and Gus sled into thickets. This weekend Arlo threw his first snowball, and we all warmed up with hot chocolate sweetened with honey.
This weekend we watched Moonrise Kingdom and reminisced about seeing it in theater after the ultrasound appointment that revealed that are third child would be a baby boy.
And now we end the weekend eating greens and chicken legs, flipping through Netflix, drink in hand, sleepy from days of relaxation.