Some weekends, we manage to get it together enough to have houseguests, and brunch and those lovely waffles with the hand-beaten egg whites and warm maple syrup.

Milo and Kiara

Some weekends, the laundry piles up, the mail goes unopened, and we spend every waking minute outside in a park, up and down the slide, jump-jump-jumping on and off the ledge, chasing Milo down the street, up and down the stoop stairs, blowing bubbles.

Milo tests gravity

Some weekends, it might rain, Milo might take an extra long nap, we might even remember a quiet minute...

Kiara ponders Milo's fish

But all weekends in the world of Milo-almost-two, simply fly by into the next as the summer skipped into fall, and the whirlwind that has become our little New York life will soon include snowballs.