At my sons’ elementary school, there is a themed art contest underway. Students are given a theme (this year it’s “Beauty Is…”), and can they product any piece of art, literature, music, photography, etc. to fit creatively with the theme.

At dinner the other night, we discussed what their possible entries might be. “So boys,” I asked them, “tell me what you think is beautiful.”

...Despite his questionable contribution to the discussion, the eight-year-old was still eager to participate, wondering if he could submit a photograph to the contest. “Of course,” I told him, handing over my camera and giving instructions. “Take a picture of what you think is beautiful.”

He did. And he said I could share the results.

Long long ago, before I had kids, before I was even entertaining the IDEA of kids, I went clothes shopping with my sister-in-law. SIL is the kind of person who can talk you into spending your mortgage payment on a skirt you'll wear maybe once, or maybe not even once. So ordinarily a shopping trip with SIL is a super fun time. Except we were shopping for kids' clothes. Specifically, t-shirts with pictures of bugs on the front, the uglier the better. "Conner is into bugs right now," she informed me, whipping through the clearance rack at the GAP.

I took this to be her explanation even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Bugs? REALISTIC bugs? SIL is cute and stylish and she was looking for pictures of insects in size 3T? I didn't get it.

Dan's sister is getting married in July, and Magoo is part of the wedding party. They know he's the best one to bring the cuteness, so he shall be decked out in a tiny man suit and a small purple bow tie. The suit I have under control -- but since I'm fairly sure they do not want him to show up wearing sneakers with his dress clothes, I decided that yesterday we needed to do some shoe shopping.

Laylee went next door to play with a neighbor friend so Magoo and I could have a special date to go shopping for exciting things just for him. He was a bit miffed about being left out of the playdate fun, but felt certain that we'd have a great time together shopping for magical Magoolish items and probably rolling around in ice cream.

I love to camp. I grew up camping with my family and loving *almost* every minute of it. (There were those few times I had to use the potty in the night and was terrified of bears, rabid squirrels or intoxicated campers I might encounter.) We spent a lot of time planning our trips and some of my happiest childhood memories are camping with my family, even driving in the car to get to our camping destinations. That’s where we bonded, out in nature away from the distractions of home.

Dan does not so much love the camping. Dan camps because he loves me. We’ve gone a few times as a family and always managed to have cold or rainy weather and at least one crying baby along for the ride. Maybe I tried to start the tradition too soon. Maybe the kids are too young and maybe I should have waited until the absolute blazing hottest day of summer. I enjoy it even when it’s cold but Dan holds a grudge against the weather. I keep trying and I feel certain that once we get it right, Dan will be hooked on camping just like my family was.

Growing up, I remember going into my brother’s room and thinking, “Boys kind of smell funny.” It always smelled funky in there though I could never quite pinpoint the reason why. I concluded that it was simply his maleness making his room smell as it did and I didn’t give much more thought to it.

In high school, boy smell took on a new meaning as the boys I knew started slathering on cologne and many of them even developed certain habits of good personal hygiene. By the time I met Dan, my perception had changed greatly and the idea of a stinky boy smell was a distant memory. Besides when I’m pregnant, I generally love the way Dan smells and when I’m pregnant I hate the scent of perfume, flowers, and most of my favorite foods. It’s really not his fault.

Then along came little baby Magoo. He smelled pretty much the same as Laylee, clean, fresh and baby-like with those strangely sweet smelling diapers and skin slathered in lotions and shampoos. I could snuggle and sniff him all day long. I still can. Sometimes I actually want to nibble him, in sort of a friendly way, not as much like a cannibal.