Swing-set hands.

We got up early this morning, packed up the car and headed up to Peter's parents. Sonja has had a blast playing in the sandbox; when night fell, she even went out with Joyanna and played in the sandbox with her flashlight. If only she could be so focused and dedicated when it comes to eating her supper.

We put Haven in the little pink swing and it dawned on me that this was the first time she had ever been in a swing. Seriously. I don't know how that happened, but it's true. Needless to say, she was thrilled and I envision many swing-set visits in our near future.

I love the swings. As a kid I would spend hours on the swings, my hands creased and imprinted by the chains. When I was all done, I would always cover my nose with my hands and breathe in that smell: the telltale smell of swing-set hands. It's one of those scents that will be forever imbedded in my brain. To this day, if I'm at a park with a swing set and I have the opportunity, I will swing and swing. And swing some more.