the ocean

My niece and nephew stayed over with us this weekend. It's my sister's anniversary, and for some reason they like to spend that weekend without tantrums over who gets to sit in which chair for Bluey. (Unless they're into that as a couple, I don't know.) So while they were sipping champagne in a helicopter flying over the Swiss Alps (that's just my guess), we were maintaining law and order with a five year old and an eight year old.

This time it went surprisingly well, even if they did somehow bring non-stop rain with them again. We had planned to take them to the park and set up a kiddie pool on the back deck, but instead we took them to Target and forced them to watch '90s Disney classics. The biggest triumph was that we got them to eat, with Maggie happily devouring not one but two lunches of jelly sandwiches and Ruffles, since we finally replaced our "weird" jelly with the "purple" stuff. Jack even said that the food at Uncle Julio's Mexican was "exactly as good as the food daddy makes," which is no doubt what a multi-million-dollar national chain hopes to hear. 

I am losing my mind slightly with the atypically nasty weather, but at least I'm not at Lollapalooza. Standing in the rain for Morgan Wade is not my idea of a good time, no matter what Kyle Richards tells me.