Morning Bugs

You know those weeks where you fly out of bed Monday morning rarin’ to go and realize about, oh, say, Wednesday, that you’ll be danged lucky to still be alive come Friday morning?  Yeah. It’s been one of those.  Only, without the morning bugs. Thankfully.  But more on that in a moment, because I’m just sure all 9 of you are dying to know what morning bugs are (they aren’t), and why they’ve taken up residence with us (they haven’t).

Our church has been hosting their VBS this week and I foolishly enthusiastically agreed to help. Again.  It’s so rewarding.  And I love the little smiles on all of the little faces each morning. But Sweet Exhaustion, am I toast when I get home.  (Once you hit 40, it’s frightening the lengths your body will go to remind you that you are no longer 25.)  Alas…

Some sweet friends of ours, that happen to live right down the street, invited us to come down and take a dip in their pool.  It was a hot and humid day today, (and in case I missed the weather report about it being hot and humid, my hair was practically screaming about the humidity!), so we were practically at their door before hanging up the phone.

Everyone was ready to splish and splash as soon as the floaties were put into place and the goggles were righted. The only thing that baffled me was when Sweetgirl whipped out her big paintbrush.  To play with. In the pool.  My sweetchildren certainly are special gifts from God.  How they come up their ideas of fun, I have no idea. Really. I did not teach them that paintbrushes were appropriate pool toys. At least, I don’t think I did…

When we finally packed up to start the long walk home, (all four houses down, that is), Sweetboy noticed the beautiful coos coming from the Morning Doves in the trees.  And so he said, “I just love those Morning Bug sounds, Mama.”

And there you have it.  Morning bugs.  Only not.  Indeed.

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