R.I.P. Okra House

 R.I.P. Okra House
Things change with the seasons, Jared had to explain to Beren. But, falling leaves are fun.

I rub a glue stick across a piece of paper and try to adhere another to it. The glue is not working.

"The glue is dead," Beren tells me.

That's so interesting, I think.


Often Jared and I hear Beren day something, and we turn to each other, "That's so sweet," we mouth. I wish I could remember even the smallest number of phrases.

Like today, "I'll read this one," he says as he grabs a book from the stack we just put on the porch. "Momma, you read, too."

"Mmm. I'd love to, but I think I'll look for my book."

Or, while rolling on the floor, mid-tantrum, "I don't want to go on a trip. I want to be alone."

Or, a story that Jared related to me: while in the garden after this week's hard frosts, Beren said, "My house dried out," upon seeing his "okra house", which he trimmed the lower leaves off of until he could walk under them. Jared explained the frost, and when Beren saw the zinnia patch, he said, "My favorite flowers are gone, too."