Sunday's Best

Smith & Vallee Woodworks built a tiny timber frame cottage for our property almost four years ago.  It was built in pieces, trailered down highway 9 from Deming, and set in place within days of Genevieve's birth.  It is where my parents find rest and respite when they come to visit, where Wes and Sarah rendezvoused for weekends during their long distance dating year, where countless friends coming to and from Alaska have stayed, and was my home office during so-called maternity leave.

Today, the cottage was discovered by the girls as a place to warm up from playing outside with a major bed jumping session:

While they were doing their best to pop the new air mattress, I was able to do a bunch of re-potting and junk rearranging:

The dahlias are in the ground, poppy seeds and alyssum sown, and chicks and hens are spreading out in fresh soil and new pots. 

By five we got cold and hungry enough to call it quits.  While Drew and I patched together a dinner plan the girls lurked off to the bathroom.  I usually leave them alone until someone starts crying - and that threshold is usually 30 seconds.  Nobody started crying this time so after 5 minutes of uninterrupted conversation with my husband I decided to check on them.  This is what I found:

Believe what you see folks.  A three year old successfully changing a one year old's diaper.  That's better than a winning lotto ticket right there.