This weekend was incredibly nice. On Friday and Saturday, the temperatures were around 70, and we spent lots of good time outside. Friday afternoon, I was out in the yard with the kids, and we put Ellie in the swing.* You may recall that Ellie did not approve of her last outing in a swing two months ago,** but this time she seemed a little more approving.
Of course, she was justifiably wary when Margaret showed up to push her in the swing.***
And honestly, that just shows good sense. But Margaret behaved very sensibly, and Ellie came to appreciate what she was doing.
And as time went by, I became more and more convinced that they were plotting something, and it was probably directed at me, and then I began to worry, because I can keep up with Margaret (barely) but both of them deployed at me is just going to be terrifying. And Ellie looks like she’s really got a devious scheme.
After a while, Margaret wandered off to do her own thing (more on that later), and Ellie stayed happily in the swing.
She was kind of miffed when she had to come in for dinner. Or rather, when I had to go in because I was planning on doing something for dinner. Which I then didn’t, because I have a vicious and nasty cold. But I could have. Anyway, I digress.
Margaret went and found her baseball toys, and explained the finer parts of the game to Puck.
She did a good job, but Puck, as cats do, seemed somewhat unimpressed.
*“My swing,” said Margaret. “My swing. But I will share my swing with Ellie.” So that was sort of nice of her.
**And if you don’t recall, you’re not reading quite assiduously enough. There will be a short quiz at the end of the post. Pay attention.
***Those of you who have really been paying attention may recall that I foresaw this moment about a year ago, and you can be proud of me for thinking of it, and proud of yourself for remembering. So we can just have some sort of mutual appreciation society here in the footnotes.