Burnt Lake with Dad**

 Day 1:  Burnt Lake Trailhead.   3.5 miles.  Start: 2:30 p.m.  Arrive:  6 p.m.  This year, they carried their packs the whole way.   Admittedly, they were lighter without their toothbrushes or toothpaste.

 Base camp.

 Burnt Lake.   Pure joy.

 Day 2:  Day hikes to Mt. "Loop Loop" and Cast Lake.

 

 Ascending Mt. L-L.

 Casting some rocks at appropriately named lake.

 "Don't let the crawdad's bite your toes!"   They prefer pepperoni stick, anyway.

 Huckleberries were in season.

 Talmage dubbed this creation Wolf Rock.

After a long day hiking, the intrepid hikers relax with popchips and some crazy rounds of Crazy 8's.

 Mountain House never tasted so good.  Briton surprised them with the Space Ice Cream - which was a hit.

 The watering hole.

 Day 3:  Back to the car.

Super fun backpacking trip, they said.

 Up close ...

... and far away ....  See you next time.

(**This post may be expounded upon, at a future date, by a primary witness to photographed events).

"One, Two!"

Celebrating his first birthday

Miles got sung "Happy Birthday" to in the morning, at nursery, again at home.  Each time he'd light right up.  He thought it was some sort of happy game.  Being two, he had no expectations for a party; but we wanted to give a nod to this auspicious day all the same.  Nothing big.

I wasn't sure what to do about a birthday cake, for instance.  I'd pulled a 12-hour night shift and hadn't planned ahead and it was Sunday.   Enter: Sophia and Leo, who brought a Costco pizza (a perk to having a Buddhist for a friend when your kid's birthday falls on the Sabbath Day Holy).   Some birthday cakes are round and pizza is round, so that solved the cake problem.

One year later.

Sydney also contributed with an actual cake, which she whipped up last minute, like it was no big deal:

Mmm.  I get an overtone of "Lego" ...

 And the grandparents provided gifts! Among them, this cute shirt that you can see the kids got a kick out of.  

Easiest birthday party on the planet (Easiest. Birthday. Party. Ever., in modern day parlance)
I wish kids turned two every year.

 Happy Birthday, Miles.  We love you!

If you could talk to the animals.

At some of the animal observation windows at the zoo, the animal sound is broadcast over a loudspeaker.  Clara and Miles and I were at the zoo and heard the growling polar bears, roaring lions, and snorting/grunting hippos.   Miles was intently observing the two hippos in the water, while their recorded snufflesnorts filled the air.  He turned and looked very seriously at me, eye to eye, and said,  emphatically,  in his baby voice, "Hippo say, 'Let it go.  Slam the door.'"

Come, All Ye Disconsolate

 As a result of coordinating swaps, playdates and helpings outs, suddenly there were a lot of friends over this particular day.  I think we're even missing a few kids in this shot (they must have been playing out in the street).  All parents were fully disclosed about my parenting philosophy of Benign Neglect.   You can see this philosophy in action by looking at Miles' attire, or lack thereof.  Miles, as you can see, took the "disclosure" literally.  One of the side benefits of my nursery calling is I get to take home the Ikea cups to wash.  A handy surplus.

 

Now THIS is the way to camp!

i.e. no camping.

We drove up to Gales Creek and roasted hot dogs, etc on one warm summer night.

 Elsa wearing her band-aid.

And then clambered around the river.

"Let it go":

 For Autumn:

Talmage's baptism.

This was a really special day for Talmage.  

Briton and I were unsure if we'd prepared him well enough.  Maybe that parental effort is a cultural shift in our church.  When Grandpa Kartchner was baptized as a kid, he was going about his regular trouble-making, when his mom told him to go over to the church and "get baptized"; like it was his next "to do" on his chore list.   He doesn't remember any special prep.   So, we stepped it up a notch from that.  At any rate, whether it was primary teachers, anything we said, or whatever, when I think of T's baptism, I am struck with how willingly and confidently he approached it.  He had a quiet assurance about him.  Kids choose faith easily.

And here they are. 

Talmage looked so bright.  Later that night he wrote, ever loquaciously, that when he was baptized he felt "happy."

O, plant a watermelon seed on my grave.

Once upon a giggly afternoon ...

 Sydney has turned into a perpetual cartwheel machine.  I'll be walking past a room and see a blur of feet go by -- at eye level.  It's like I'm walking on the ceiling.  She cartwheels down the hall on her way to bed; off the deck onto the grass and back up; from the coffee table to the couch, etc.  You name it.  She'll cartwheel it.

Then, this buster has discovered the thrill of jumping.

 In the above version, he jumps up and lands flat on his bum.  A benefit of wearing diapers, I suppose.

Why I will never do a one-night camping trip again: pack the car, unpack the car, lug stuff to camp site, set up camp, eat, go to bed, don't sleep, break camp, pack car, drive home, unpack car, do lots of laundry, swear never to do it again until all children sleep through the night.

 On a more positive note, it was fun to go with friends and the kids loved pulling the handcarts.  Appropriately, this was Pioneer Day (weekend).  Davy and Talmage are showing how fierce they are in order to ward off marauding ... lions.

 The 1/4 mile trek to the campsite was uphill both ways.  Now I know that grandpa was serious about his topography.   The trail went downhill to a dip, then uphill to the campsite.  Coming or going, uphill.  QED PDQ.

Sydney and Miles picked up the stuff that fell out of the cart along the way.  Those pioneers must have been really good at packing their handcarts.  Or maybe they had a lot of kids.

Nutella and raspberries s'mores.  Mmmm...

"Has anyone lost a kid with a white bandage on his forehead?" asked the stranger who found Miles wandering into the woods away from camp.

... for breakfast, may I add.

 

Packing up the kids.

And time to go home.

The deal of the week

Sydney's cello teacher invited her to attend this fancy schmancy music camp last week. The beginning cello class she was teaching only had two students and "two isn't a group," she said. Syd got to feast on Ashley's knowledge for 45 minutes, every day. For free.  Last day there was also a performance; her group played two songs. Sydney loved the class.

The camp was held at Catlin Gabel - a private school.  Here, Miles is off to his studies:

 Which reminded me of this shot of Talmage, about the same age, off to his.

Clarification:  I believe in public schools.  Rich schools have nicer landscaping.  That's all.