Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Sigh. The Husband is travelling. Again. Fortunately, it's domestic this time, so no worries as far as all the Icelandic volcanic action of late, but nonetheless, not my favourite.

(Yikes - I just typed that "favourite" without the "u." Cultural assimilation, thy name is dropped vowels.)

I'd be upset about being a single parent yet again so very soon except that he came bearing some very nice gifts after last time:

(Smart guy.)

This, my friends, is a for real crepe pan, dragged allllll the way home from Europe. Of special note is the fact that The Husband had to check his bag in order to transport it, given that it would be less than wise to try to take something big and heavy with a convenient handle as part of one's carry-on.

(Checked baggage is The Husband's nemesis. Nothing says, "I love you with all my heart" like standing beside a baggage carousel for your wife.)

Also above is a cute little personal espresso maker. It says it serves 3, which means that I can almost get enough for myself out of it. They are both fabulous, and the PM household was essentially Little Paris this weekend because of them.

And have I mentioned lately how much I love older kids? The three of us distracted ourselves from our missing fourth yesterday by riding bikes down to the ice cream shop and then to the lake afterwards, where the munchkins made a fortress for some poor worm who didn't wriggle away fast enough while I soaked up some sunshine and some Robertson Davies. I was totally impressed by how good they are on their bikes - we even had some shaky hand signal action.

We've also got new fun on the docket:

Yep, they've discovered the wonders of Dutch Blitz and beg to play every day. They're getting pretty good (well, good-ish - The Girl is quite meticulous about slowly selecting her three cards and then turning them over. It's not the most fast-paced, but we get the job done).