Forced Family Outing

We went on a forced family outing on Saturday to the FIG at the Whatcom Museum.  You know the place.  The place that makes me say, "girls, Daddy and Wes did all of the woodworking in here" in my annoying, high-pitched, enthusiastic mom voice every time we go.  "Yeah, I know.  Where are the dolls?" 

Photo Credit: Whatcom Museum

Marguerite donned a crocodile suit and rampaged around in her own world for most of our time there.

It was the tantrum she threw on our way out the door that marked her approval. 

I stayed up way too late working last night, which snowballed in to designing and ordering our holiday cards.  In hindsight I should have done the latter project during daylight hours.  I glanced at my montage of photos that make up a card this morning, none of which are Christmassy, all of which are summery, and felt like a big dork.  No sweaters or trees or velvet dresses with tights and mary janes.  All sundresses and flowers and brown skin and boating.  Live and learn.  Maybe.

I did refrain from taking us on our usual Sunday forced family walk in the rain today and accepted our general state of laziness best illustrated by Chuck, recovering from his ladder rescue ordeal from our neighbor's roof.  A dull moment?  Never.

Happy Sunday.