Within ten minutes of when we arrived Friday, Parker, who had woken up running a fever, barfed and clung. His daddy cleaned it up and comforted him.

Get a little tylenol in him, though, and you’d never know he didn’t feel well, he was pure toddler running around with a grin.

Within a few hours he snuggled over next to me. I was smitten all over again–and then, just to make sure I knew the order of things, he pulled his daddy’s arm to come sit close on the other side. There. Love. Both sides.  Good. And in front, too, hi, Grandpa!

We got presented with a Parker doodle; after all, as Richard-the-younger teased me in a mock-accusatory tone, “He IS quarter hippy, y’know.”

Works for me.

Parker let us know he had the starving-artist thing down already.

First thing Sunday morning he was down that slide that had terrified  him the night before and was experimenting with the best ways to go and how to vary and control the speed. With his mommy or daddy right there, he can brave anything.