Slow

We had a fairly slow weekend around here, which mainly revolved around eating meals and being together.
Daddy found a whole box of the old computer paper at the back of the garage, so Oscar was able to do plenty of drawing.

 I started the infamous 3 Hour Sweater and rattled it down again because I didn't like the look of it.

Oscar and Daddy tackled the jungle (some of it) at the bottom of the garden.
And they made a bed for some organic bulbs and seeds I have on order (autumn planting garlic, onion and broad beans). But mostly we hung out together. So when I woke this morning with a whole day of house cleaning ahead of me I was fairly unexcited. Then I remembered about a poem I saw over at Betty's Bletherins.

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peek-a-boo
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby lullaby loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Maybe Oscar and I will just hang out some more instead.