We started the morning with waffles, warm raspberry compote, freshly tapped maple syrup, and homemade whipped cream. We ate and sang songs and the kiddos opened small gifts. We ventured to the great outdoors, where we hiked and ran, slithered and crawled. We fished, to no avail at the big pond in dark choppy water. We loaded up and drove on, when the hay bails began whispering for us to come play, so we obliged- climbing on top, running wild, playing games of freeze tag and cops and robbers. We rested, we dipped ripe red strawberries in smooth milk chocolate, intermittently we would pile up and I would read aloud a chapter of our new book. We took to the fields for everyone to have a go on the dirt bike, and as dusk settled in we met at the table for good food, taking turns each naming things and people we love. We celebrated, we basked in the day, and it was good, it was great. It was quiet, it was low key, and it was simplified.
but. . . if I'm being completely forthcoming, there was a very small part of me that missed the hullabaloo of a bedroom filled with balloons. It's in my bones, I like to go big- it's just who I am. I like to create unforgettable moments even if it's in the form of a so called disaster. Maybe, I'm not cut out for simplified.