Too much fun

It was such a beautiful spring weekend that were outside all day every day and then I went to a wedding on Saturday and drank a little too much champagne and now I am too exhausted to write anything. So I'm reposting something I like from last year.

"Last Saturday. Domenica and Justin came over with their kids and I made a big pot of vegetable biryani that tasted awful when we first tried it, so we all had some bourbon to give it time to absorb more flavor, which put us in excellent moods.
It was a breathtakingly gorgeous afternoon, everything bright green and in bloom. Tommy and Justin played badmitton, and Domenica and I shared gossip until Liam started riding a turtle on wheels down the hill in our backyard. Our backyard is one long slope that ends in a pit that used to be the foundation of a barn. It is not a good yard to ride anything on, and I telling Liam all week that if he didn’t listen when I asked him not to ride down the hill I would take something away, I took the turtle away.
This started world war three. Liam cried and screamed and told me he hated me.
“You sound very angry,” I said, using a technique Domenica had read in a parenting book. (Step one: validate the child's feelings.")
“I am!” Liam said.
“Why didn’t you listen to Mommy?” (Step two: find out what the child was thinking.)
“That turtle doesn’t go very fast!” he said. “And I know how to stop! And you weren’t supposed to take that away from me!”
“It sounds like you didn’t feel like I listened to you,” I said. (Not sure what step that was.)
“That's because you didn't!!!” he said.
So I said something about how no one likes to be ignored, and I don’t like it any more than he does, and then I asked him if he was ready to say he was sorry and he said no but he threw his arms around my neck and clung to me, so I decided that was apology enough for the time being.

We all went on to have a nice dinner (the biryani turned out fine) and the children played well without spraying each other with Windex or pouring any foodstuffs on the couch like they did the week before.
Later, after everyone had left and things settled down, a rainstorm came. I was in the kitchen washing the dishes, feeling happy and full of everything—life, good company, good food, when I looked out on the back porch and saw Liam sitting quietly out there in a chair eating blueberries from a cup, watching the rain fall.
Liam is almost always in motion, and seeing him sit pensively and still, absorbed by the sound of the rain was such an unusual sight I practically held my breath--the way you do when you see a rare bird or wild animal that doesn’t know it’s being observed.
He stayed out there until I finished the dishes and then I went out and sat down next to him. It was so beautiful out on our rickety porch. The sky was that deep evening blue it turns just before it becomes night, and the trees were in black relief against it. Across the creek I could see the lights from someone else’s window and the rain poured and poured down. Is it because we’re mostly made of water that it is so soothing to listen to rain fall? It’s as if my body responds to it gratefully, like thank you, thank you, thank you.

I buried my nose in Liam’s gritty, little boy hair which badly needs a shampoo and said, “I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t listen to you today. And I’m sorry I yelled.”
Liam just nodded.
“Let’s stop not listening to each other, all right?” I said. “Then we won’t have to be sad.”
Liam shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “We’ll always be sad.” He said it as if this was a bit of heavy knowledge he’s had for a long time.
“Why do you say that?” I said.
“Because people will always be taking things away from other people.”
We were quiet.
“Well,” I finally said. “The good news is that people will always be giving things to other people, too.”
Liam didn’t say anything.
“I’m pretty happy now, though,” I said. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s because we aren’t bumblebees. They just hate the rain.”