Moving to Seattle: Seattle isn't so bad

I was gently scolded by a friend today that I'm being too hard on the city of Seattle. And yes, she is right. After making pancakes for breakfast, we took a leisurely walk to the local farmers market, well, if you call pushing 70 pounds of squirming toddler and non-stop talking 4-year old "leisurely." But, it was pleasant and the weather was absolutely beautiful. There were bits of sunshine amongst warm and cool breezes. I noticed more and more flowers blooming; it really was a beautiful morning.

Painting while daddy makes pancakes. Note the different levels of sophistication in the paintings.

Flowers in our front yard

The farmers market is always a treat. Today's main entertainment was "Pickled Beats," a three-person folksy bluegrass band. I can't say for sure that it was bluegrass, not knowing the nuances of country music, but it sounded like the bluegrass concerts that my parents dragged me to when I was Genna's age. Genna, as her typical self, started dancing to the music. This time, she decided a loose Lyle-the-crocodile tapdance was best-suited for this type of music. Her dancing was surprisingly appropriate for the music. I don't know much about bluegrass, but I did like their music. But, even more than the music, I liked the performers. The ukulele player had a striking resemblance to our plumber. The bass player had a sense of style similar to Genna's - layers of seemingly random articles of clothes: green long johns, black and white striped socks, plaid skirt on top of a jeans skirt, brown vest on top of a fuzzy red turtleneck, and a feathered hat to top it off. The banjo player seemed a bit out of place with her Burberry jacket, leather boots, and $200 hairdo. Nevertheless, it was great entertainment on a beautiful morning.

After (the non-) nap, Genna and I made heart-shaped cutout cookies. It is simply unfathomable how many times a 4-year old can ask if she can eat a cookie before they are done. Even with (empty) threats like, "if you ask again you'll have to go to your room and won't be able to eat any," a 4-year old can still be determined. At that moment, I think she honestly wanted to eat a cookie more than I'd like to win the Mega million.

After fussing in his bed, Jonah did finally fall asleep and took a good nap. As usual, he woke up grumpy, but I was shocked at how quickly he turned off his whining when I gave him a little cookie frosting. Could this be the key to a pleasant afternoon with fuss-boy, or perhaps it would turn out to be the making of an insatiable sweet-tooth? Why isn't there a Mommy Manual that provides answers for questions like this?

As a sidenote, Noah secured the URL for his Seattle coffee blog last week, but he still hasn't written anything yet, so I'll help him out with a few photos: