Along with every teenager in the metro-Richmond area (and about 2/3rds of the adult population), Will and I went to see “The Hunger Games” this weekend.
As expected, it was entertaining. I had read the books and Will had not, so it was fun to compare notes afterwards. The lead actress was fantastic (I liked her much better than the character in the book, who I have a hard time sympathizing with during most of the storyline). I had not pictured Woody from Cheers to be playing the washed-up mentor, Haymitch (although he also did a great job), but otherwise everything on screen matched up almost identically with what the author described in the book.
Frances, George and I ventured to Maymont park this week, for the first time without the double stroller (or any stroller for that matter). It was one of those perfect spring days when it felt criminal to stay inside and they both assured me they were up for the challenge of tackling the trek on foot.
The first half was easy, the second half was hard; but I had assumed as much going in to the morning. It helps that I remember being that child who could hardly…walk…to…the…car my legs were so tired, only to return home and run in the backyard for 30 minutes straight.
|This picture also reminds me that I need to buy these kids some new, bigger clothes.|
George's muscle shirt is one thing, but I think Frances has officially outgrown this "dress."
A special visit from Mr. Pyles (of the Gram-E and Mr. Pyles fame, of course).
This picture is proof positive why Will and I can never get an iPad. But they sure love it when he brings his.
George: [after ‘performing’ on the potty] Mommy, watch monster cookie?
Me: Huh? Monster cookie? Oh, you mean you want to watch Monster’s Inc.?
George: Yes. Watch monster cake?
It was such an adorable gaffe I almost let him watch the movie. But alas, screen time is still highly limited in this house, which as you may imagine goes over very well with F&G.
I love this picture of Max. At least once a day Max stares off in the distance and, as far as we can tell, he’s not staring at anything in particular. I have no idea what goes through that little tiny head of his. Thinking about his day’s work? Wondering when we’re going to give him his bone? Pondering some larger philosophical question about life? Contemplating why Marshall often escapes the children’s evening costume routine?
Oh, the humiliation.
Happy Sunday, everyone!