“Oh, this will be a memorable Memorial Day!” became the common refrain in the house as M, T, and C visited.

L is endlessly excited every time they come — “When will they get here?! When?!” — and often overwhelmingly depressed when they leave. They call each other cousins (Why not sisters? I know not.) and have a grand adventure every time they get together.

Their visit this time was short but packed. Sunday evening we hosted a pizza and movie party with Nana and Papa. M was practically tripping over herself with excitement, and the chattering in L’s room carried on into the late night. Yet still this morning, they were ready early as couldn’t be expected for more fun. For another adventure. L and I introduced them to the various “hiding places” we’ve found along the drainage “creek” that runs behind our house, but as often happens, E was the real center of attention.

The afternoon, the girls, practically falling on themselves with excitement, talked us into a visit to Nana’s and Papa’s community’s pool.

“The water will be cold.” everyone warned. “It’s been in the fifties and sixties at night.”

Still, a bit of chilly water is nothing compared to the excitement of the first swim of the season. The adults sat out; the girls jumped in. Perhaps that’s something of a harbinger of things to come as they grow older and we beside them? A growing reluctance to take risks in direct proportion to their willingness?

After M, T, and C left, we spent some more time outside, letting the Boy lead the way. The discovery of a great stick was the highlight for him; the discovery of virtually-flightless baby birds out of the nest was the worry for us. I managed to deposit one of the chicks in the nest in the turn of our gutter’s downspout, but the other hopped merrily away, into the street, its mother squawking nearby, trying to coax baby out of the road. In the meantime, E was heading, full steam, toward the embankment leading to the front ditch. K darted to him just as he’d turned around and prepared himself to sit up — which would have lasted only as long as it took for him to lose his balance and go tumbling down the embankment. She led him back up the hill to the accompaniment of the mother bird, still fussing at her own baby.

Two moms, doing their jobs.