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Dave spent the day today in Philadelphia attending a conference. I spent a lot of the day worrying about how Henry and I would pass the time, especially since we were without a car. By this evening I was a little pooped out and rather than spend the last half hour of the evening crashed out on the couch while Henry watched Teletubbies, I strapped him into his stroller and we headed to the park. We chased each other around, slid down some slides, got spooked by a couple of teenagers who were cuddling in a remote corner of a faux castle, and pretended we were the captains of a boat. Right after telling Henry we had five more minutes before we had to head home for a bath, I introduced him to one of my favorite pastimes: I picked a dandelion and blew on it, sending the fluff everywhere. Henry thought this was hilarious and ran immediately to another patch of dandelions, picked one and handed it to me. He did this over and over until he realized he didn't have to relinquish the dandelion to me, he could in fact retain possession of it while I blew on it, which added a whole new element of excitement to this particular adventure. As I was sitting there watching my kid walk amongst the dandelions, carefully considering which were the best candidates for being defluffed, I couldn't help stopping and really holding on to that moment, knowing that it would soon be over. God, motherhood has made me so sentimental.