Frisbees

Tab planned to spend a few hours today putting in the bedroom air conditioners. I decided to take the boys out of the house for awhile so that he could work undisturbed.

I packed a lunch and a thermos of water. Much of our favorite playground is exposed to the sun, so before we left I slathered sunscreen all over them and me. I told Daniel to bring along one of his baseball caps, and I located the twins' hats from last summer. Stephen's hat is decorated with a picture of Tigger, and Matthew's has Elmo. The hats still fit them, but just barely.

Though I planned to spend as much time in the shade as possible, I decided to wear a hat, too. Now that I've been diagnosed with rosacea, I'm trying to take especially good care of my skin. Tab offered me the use of his Tilley hat; rather than rooting through the overflow closet where my hats are buried, I accepted his offer. I had teased Tab unmercifully when he ordered this Tilley hat last year ("You paid how much for a hat?"), but having worn it, I'm sold now. It's lightweight but sturdy, shady and comfortable. Tab's hat is a little too big for me; otherwise, he might never get it back. He's offered to buy me my own Tilley hat. I think he's looking forward to a few more chances to say "I told you so."

After we ate lunch, the boys decided they wanted to throw frisbees around. We have three frisbees in the car: guess how many of them Daniel fetched from the car? Yes, all three. They ignored my suggestion to put two of the frisbees back.

"Guys, that doesn't make any sense. Who's going to catch the frisbees if you are all off throwing your own?"

"You, Mama!"

Of course.

After a while, Daniel and Stephen tired of throwing and retrieving their frisbees and began throwing one back and forth to each other. Matthew was not part of their game. He was having trouble even getting his frisbee aloft.

"Hold it like this, Matthew," I said, demonstrating with Stephen's abandoned frisbee. "No, not over your shoulder, honey. From the front, like this. Now, flick your wrist."

Matthew hurled his frisbee with all his force straight into the ground at his feet.

"OK, that was a good start," I said, picking it up and handing it to him.

Poor Matthew is the least physically coordinated of all my boys. I feel sorry for him when he attempts the things that come easily to Daniel and Stephen--and fails. That's why I'm glad he's doing so well with swimming. At least there is one physical activity at which he excels.

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