They all want to kiss me.

They all want to squeeze me because I am soft and cute.

But even though I’m only three, I’m already my own self. Respect me.

You think you can make yourself irresistible?

It is only I. Only I am irresistible. Don’t kiss me.

At a garage sale,

Mom bought a box of batik fabric that someone had cut into small pieces with the intent of making a quilt.

The quilt was never completed.

She bought me the fabric thinking I might use the tiny pieces to make tiny doll clothes.

I have decided that I enjoy piecing the fabric for clothing.

This skirt has 32 different fabrics.

I took Iris to the field across from the school to model it for me.

…& then strange tiredness overcame her, & she lay on the ground, immobile.

…while Martin waited in the shade.

Akiva tries hard to keep his cool.

Akiva: I have a baby goat!

Iris: My baby goat is bigger than your baby goat.

Akiva: Your goat’s too big to carry.

Iris: Is not!

Akiva: Woah.

Chloe: Did you carry this baby goat all the way over here just for me?

Iris: It’s more your size. I prefer the littler ones.

Akiva: [to himself] I like goats. But if goats had wheels, I’d like them even better.

On the way home from camping, we stopped just outside of Montreal for two nights to do a few things. We stayed in an air B&B which, in this case, was an airless B&B. It was located in a basement with very little ventilation and no AC, and it was HOT. When we asked for a fan, the owner took the one from the chicken coop— but it didn’t seem to work anymore, so there we were. We washed our camping clothing & dried them into a dryer that vented into the basement. Hot. The water in the house was not potable, which we did not know in advance. The woman left us a gallon, which certainly doesn’t go far amongst four hot, hot sweaty people. Gallon after gallon, we went to buy more at the not-so-close store. I was thirsty. The crickets were too loud to allow us to sleep with the one available window open. The beds were not quite made of cardboard. While we were there, Akiva scratched Iris on the arm. A tiny scratch. It did not bleed. But the broken skin got infected. One long blister and two smaller ones swelled and broke. Of all the places I have slept in of dubious quality in various third-world countries, this one was the worst.

Here you see Iris back home on our own bike path,

white bandage covering her infected scratch,

small bandage covering another scratch on the other arm.

She is anxious about biking.