Simple

Sunday was another green day, all spring-like, fresh and lovely. We took Oliver for a picnic at the beach, excited to put him in a park swing for the first time. Technically, it wasn't his first time. His daycare house has an excellent mini-park of a backyard, which is not lacking for a baby swing. But this was our first time seeing him in one, so I'm pretending it was a first for him. On our way, we picked up Subway. And Caribou, as I nearly fell asleep in church the hour before. "Smallskimicedmochamadewithdarkchocolate," was the order I rattled off to Michael.

It was a Norman Rockwell of an afternoon. We sat under the swing as Oliver laughed and laughed, grabbed for our faces and kicked his pudge-legs. We put his bare feet in the wet sand for the first time and let the cold water lap onto his wee piggy toes. And Michael told him all about trees.

"This is bark," he said. "The bark is on the trunk, which is part of the tree. Which is in the ground, and under the ground is the roots." Then he looked at me and said, "It's so weird, isn't it? I mean, all of these words he doesn't even know. How do babies ever learn anything when they don't even know what any of the words mean?"

I nodded in agreement, and replied,"smallskimicedmochamadewithdarkchocolate."

It is complex little world that we live in. But on Sunday, everything was simple, beautiful, and perfect.