A Picnic

A day in February, right at the end. The trees were still bare. The ground was wet, muddy, begging for sun.

I had one thing in common with that ground. I was begging for sun. For warm. For outside.

So, we had a picnic.

Aed didn't really understand what was happening. His mood swung from so excited at the prospect of eating outside, to so distraught that the food was going into bags and containers rather than to the table. Eventually we stepped out into the winter-warming sun and his excitement for fresh air quelled his fears.

We climbed up into the tree house on the swing set, spread out our blanket, and had our picnic.

It was a change of pace, a new adventure for tiny feet. 

And, the best part? From then on, any food he saw that was in a plastic container was called 'Picnic' by my eldest. ('You want some Picnic?')