Watched my oldest jump from the edge of the pool into the arms of his very first swim instructor.
Sat in the sun, reading a couple of chapters in my new book while the kids played nearby.
Glued and taped flowers and weeds to pieces of paper - art time moved outside.
Listened to the boys as they pointed out and told me over and over, that's a milkweed, that's a milkweed, that's a milkweed, on our nature walk.
Rang a cowbell (twice) to signify it was time to pick up toys and come inside.
Left the dinner dishes on the table to return outside for more baseball, trike riding, and playing with the neighbors.
I've mentioned on here a time or two that I'm not much of a summer person. I don't hate summer; but I'm just not a lover of summer.
So my anticipation for this summer has really taken me by surprise.
I don't know if it's because last summer - dealing with the fire and not living at home and bringing a baby home into the mix of it all - was, well, pretty awful and I feel like I need a re-do.
Or if it's because this past year was our first taste of school and this, now, is our first summer break.
Or, if, more likely, it's a combination of those things and the boys getting older and plans for a couple of vacations that I'm so looking forward to, but suddenly I am welcoming this season with open arms.
Long nights outside, days in the water and sun, ice cream cones, corn on the cob, we've already eaten our weight in watermelon, but more watermelon, trips to the farmers' market, bonfires, s'mores. I may change my tune in a few months, but for now, summer can stay for as long as it wants.