Stella is 36 weeks old today, and she has a cold or allergy problems (wet, warmish weather messes with all of us), making her very stuffed up. She managed to have some fun with her favorite toy, though: a driving contraption Auntie Mo gave her for Christmas.
Yesterday, I turned off the light in the basement and closed the door. My kids seem to have a difficult time doing that themselves. About ten seconds later, I heard a voice from behind the closed door. "Hey, open the door," it said. Of course, the voice belonged to Jack. Bridget opened the door, and said, "Jack, where did you get that ?" "What?" I asked. Then Jack emerged, muffin tin filled with yellow paint, in hand. He didn't spill a drop, and when I went to the basement to investigate, the bottle of yellow tempera was sitting on top of the chest freezer, with nary a drip to be seen.
We were back at it yesterday: more sorting, trashing, and packing at my parents' house. I took a short break, though, to get some photos. Here are some pictures of one of my favorite parts of my childhood home (my own kids love it, too). This staircase is wide, with relatively low risers, that make walking up the stairs actually pleasurable. These features also make sliding down on your belly a good time, and I'm surprised that Luke, Bridget, Henry, Sam, and Jack have not yet worn a path in the carpet. Mom and Dad probably stripped and re-varnished all that lovely, oak woodwork, since they did it with the rest of the house's trim.
We spent most of the weekend sorting, packing, giving away, and throwing away 45 years' worth of stuff at my parents' house. It's been vacant since Mom died more than four years ago. We've had it on the market for the last two years, and now, a fellow I graduated from high school with is buying it. David came to see me at the house on Saturday, and he's quite excited to move in. I'm happy the house is going to someone who seems to really love it.