I'm standing in the waning sun, wondering at how it can be 90 degrees and actually not that bad.
The medium kids are running around like crazy, trying to get as wet as they can with two kiddie pools and bowls for splashing.
As I hold my (clean) naked chunk of a one year old, I marvel and how she rests on me all heavy and soft like a giant, weighted marshmallow.
I think how it must look to people driving by, me: all frazzled with my hair freaking out from the extreme humidity, skirt all wet from kids wanting to give me "WET HUG!", shirt all wet patches, juice, and chalk hand stains.
Tommy screams with pleasure as Mari chases him around with the hose, entangling my legs and laughing evilly.
I know it's soon time to go in and get these rug rats dressed already but...
She rests her head on my shoulder and says "Ma...ma...ma...maaaaah."
Oblivious of the chaos around her or the fact that she's naked as a jaybird.
Sing song butter baby is too squishy and wonderful for me to move and lose this moment.