Sometime last week, on one of the first really warm days, I pulled out the picnic quilt from the closet, spread it on our brick patio, and Jameson and I sat and had picnic lunch. It was so much fun, and I could tell he totally enjoyed the novelty of sitting on the ground, outside, eating.
Fast forward to today. We just got back from the grocery store, and I was busy putting groceries away. (This, of course, is a much different chore than it was two years ago. It now involves hunting for grocery items Jameson “put away”, and finding the cantaloupe in the middle of the yard, where he apparently rolled it.)
Anyway, I gave him a little dish with some snacks in it, and he happily disappeared to do whatever it is toddlers do. A few minutes later, I noticed him working hard to pull the folded picnic quilt off of the bench I’d laid it on last week. He made several more trips in and out of the house, “asking” me to come with him a few times (to which I responded, “Just a second!”), and then I heard him munching on chips through the window. I peeked out to check on him, and there he sat, on the quilt, with the bowl between his legs, having a picnic.
I love this little person named Jameson. I sure do.
[Oh, and as I was writing this, Jameson came inside, found Ryan’s car keys, came over to me with lips puckered up for a “goodbye” kiss, and headed out the door. Agh! So cute!]