The cubby house got a spring clean on the weekend.
It was sprayed for spiders, dusted and scrubbed and has become their favourite place.
My favourite place now hangs below it under the shade of a giant pine-y tree. It gets morning sunshine, this place, but it’s not until the afternoon that I find myself wandering out there to collapse. I use one foot to swing myself gently, as I listen to the Secret Cubby House business.
“This is a light pink, a light pink, a light pink” she sings
Her big sister corrects her, “That is actually skin colour Amie. But some people have skin that is this colour. See? It’s browner. Like daddy. He has brown colour skin”
“Yeah and freckles” giggle.
“Do you know where dad is actually from? He’s actually from New Zealand”
By this time I’m stifling giggles. [their daddy is not from New Zealand]
The three carried a tiny table and chairs up the stairs to the cubby, and insisted on eating their dinner there.
We turned on the lights because we could.
Miss Eden is becoming more and more animated, and Amie was happy to have Indiecat join the fun.
Daddy cooked us sausages, and I snap, snap, snapped, trying to become familiar with my new Canon, after so long being a Nikon girl.