Sometimes when I am with my kids I think about the parts of their lives they will remember when they are adults. I hope it's things like the warm milk I pour on their weetbix in the morning, or the clean sheets they get into on a Sunday. It could be eating plums during summer holidays on the farm, or holding hands and singing as we walk to school.
This weekend, as a kind of homage to the end of summer (weep), we took the four of them out to Taita Rock, a mythic jumping spot above a swimming hole at our local river.
It was meant to rain all weekend but the sun was out and it was pretty warm. The little ones asked if I could teach them to skim stones. We stood there for hours chucking the flat grey stones in the water and watching the odd one bounce. Our littlest was so eager with his lips clenched and his body in full side-toss mode. He yelled "Bombzer!" every time a splash appeared and shock his wee body around.
When we got in the car to go home everyone was happy - their eyes all shiny, their hair whipped around their faces, and their hands full of smooth river stones to take home.
It made me feel like I was in a memory. Like the time was already gone and it was something we were remembering. Too perfect.
It's spring in Europe and we have whanau there that have really struggled over the last 12 months. Fingers crossed they'll be skipping stones soon too. "Bombzer!"
The Munro crew.