Neel left yesterday morning for a week-long meeting in Washington DC. (over Memorial Day Weekend, of all things) He's been gone less than 24 hours, and already everything has gone to hell. We were away all day yesterday and somehow the house is trashed. How is that possible? We slept late and Callum had peanut butter toast and lime slices for breakfast (you know how careful we have to be about scurvy), and the final blow was the decision to not go to karate. We got home at nearly ten last night, but if Neel had been here, up he and Callum would have been, and out the door to karate by 8:30 this morning. I'm definitely the slacker parent in this regard, and it takes the merest whiff for me to say (jumping up and down and clapping gleefully), "Ohh, I know! Let's stay home instead!!" Callum and I need Neel to keep us on the path of responsibility, and I am so grateful for his steadiness. Still, a day off won't hurt us, really. And the payoff is to sit in the back yard, suck on a lime and watch our hydrangeas burst onto the scene.

You'll be hearing more about these babies soon, I promise.

It'll be hard to top yesterday. Finally, finally the waiting was over for this. (And let me record it here, that I thought it was much better than the reviews are claiming, although I seem to have forgotten most of what happened.) After that, a swimmingly good afternoon and evening with some dear friends. Friday nights are valuable family time, and I feel very grateful to be taken under their wing. It was a perfect evening. The kids were in the pool, out of the pool, in the playhouse, on the playhouse, on the trampoline, back in the pool and out again, at the very last minute, wringing every valuable second from this early summer evening. All this while the grown-ups (if you can call us that) sat and talked, sipped cocktails and smelled the pork tenderloin on the grill. Not a bad start to the holiday weekend. I missed Neel, ensconced in the gold-leafed glory of the Mayflower Hotel in DC. Much better to be here, watching the fireflies light up the evening and slapping at mosquitoes.

It is only rarely that I feel a twing of regret that our son is an only child. Our family vibe works so well with the three of us (with Neel's steadyness navigating!), I don't really want it any other way. It's hard for me to describe how happy it makes me to see my boy running with a pack of friends like he did last night. I'm an only myself, and he's much better at it than me. I'd watch, paralyzed with shyness before dipping a toe into the giddy frenzy that a pack of siblings brings. Not much has changed for me, really. But for Callum, it seems seemless, his slide into their games and rambles. Assimilate is the right word, but then it isn't. Too clinical for his brave heart that dives right in. As assured of his place as if he were meant to be there, as if he'd been there all along.

We do the highs and lows of our day each night (another gift from these dear friends...dinner was good too!), and last night it was so hard to choose. Pirates? Swimming? Trampoline? None of those. For Callum it was his first taste of honeysuckle. Taste after taste after taste. We could hear him in the depths of the yard saying, "Let's pretend we're in honeysuckle land..."

Here's to another glorious summer.