School's out for the kids.
M took a long nap in the afternoon. J spent the time skateboarding, but now he's on the couch with a Diet Coke and "Boy Meets World" reruns. A is playing the "Cars" videogame with a neighborhood kid in his room, D is reading, I'm here, but I was watching a really low-budget action film with C. Thomas Howell on near-mute while chatting with my sister, while kicking back on my bed with M sleeping next to me.
The weather is lovely, Southern California bliss.
Time clicks by slowly.
Tomorrow we'll be attending the graduation from the University of California at Irvine of our dear babysitter. She came to us when she was fourteen - we were her first official babysitting employers. I don't think she ever worked for anyone else. We have loved her all these years - for a younger sibling, for a girl who never had babies to care for, she's the most reliable caretaker I know. She can watch six kids without flinching. She's brilliant (a valedictorian in high school and cum laude at college), independent (when everyone told her she should be a doctor because she could, she chose film studies), and will be phenomenal in whatever she chooses to do. I'm so proud of her...and am kissing the sky that she's still willing to watch my wild children.
A wants us to barbecue steak - I need to cook the cobs of corn that sit on the counter waiting to be shucked - Sassy has a chunk of M's hair in her mouth as they play on the floor, getting M to giggle, a sound that carries throughout the house.
"God darnit," she curses, running down the hall, waving a chewed-up sock in her hand, calling A's name.