Mom. I love this summer vacation with you.

Today is an incredibly ordinary day. In that weird purgatory where it's summer, but Chase is eeking out a few more painful days at school. It's in the 90s, and the littles and I went to the farmer's market today for corn and tomatoes because I'm thinking about my grandmother, E. We played at Van Dyck park, until it got too hot, then came home for hot dogs on the grill, buttery corn on the cob and sliced tomatoes with lots of salt and pepper. Cole wanted to make a cake, and I thought why not, and he licked the batter until he was covered in chocolate (hence playing in his underwear). Caroline napped while the cake cooled. And I got so frustrated at Cole calling up to me from downstairs (and waking his sister) that I raised my voice and made a face stern enough to make my sweet four-year-old burst into tears. So this afternoon I've had a pit in my stomach. And yet, just now, as the three of us iced the cake, Cole said to me, "Mom. I love this summer vacation with you."