Bubbles and Popsicles

With two kids around, I can't feasibly take my camera everywhere or even most places.

I leave it sitting near my back door, but it's still not within easy reach every time I get inspired to take a photo.

Looking through my photos from the end of summer, however, it seems like every single time we played with bubbles and every single time Orelia ate a popsicle, it was well documented.

I must love bubbles and popsicles, I suppose.

Or perhaps the kids are both happy and I can actually run inside to get my camera for a change.

At least according to my photographic history, all we did was play with bubbles and eat popsicles all summer long.

There is definitely something beautiful in that sentiment.

A part of me wishes we really did spend every morning and afternoon lounging about eating popsicles for every meal and going through galloons of bubble solution every week.

I suppose the novelty would have worn off if we did it too much.

Luckily, bubbles still have their allure.

Especially when shot through a fan gun.

Though Orelia was adamant this wasn't a bubble "gun."

I stand corrected.

For the hottest weeks of the summer, Orelia would be about to drift off for her nap and would request a popsicle "when I wake up."

"Sure, sure," I would agree, knowing full well you don't argue things when you are about to close the door at nap time.

Sure enough, she remembered my agreement, and always made sure I followed through on my promise.

Most of the time she only finishes half the popsicle herself, and I am stuck with the arduous task of finishing it for her.

Some tasks in motherhood are harder than others.

Farewell sweet summer, we have enjoyed you immensely.