...is what I'm drinking.
My hair and clothes smell like smoke after a successful night of s'more-making. Stephan played washers with the men as us ladies loved on the babies and kept the older children from catching on fire. I was hoping to join in the washers game after putting Noah down for the night, but by the time I was finished tucking him in, everybody was leaving. Fiddlesticks.
Tomorrow is Saturday. I have high hopes of visiting the zoo, possible maybe. Here's to high hopes!
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