The Elephant and Butter has been on a special uncle assignment in the Colorado portion of the country. Children have been wrestled to the point of delirium. Vanilla pancakes have been cooked. Favorite colors and animals have been declared. Dadaist songs have been devised and sung con gusto on a barely tune-able toy guitar. Picnics have been staged. A three-year old has been taught the phrase "East Coast media bias." A six-year old has alleged that the uncle's wardrobe is repetitive.
And then, during the glorious time of the nap, the uncle becomes recumbent on a hammock with a bowl of cherries from the farmers' market, and he spits pits every which way while looking up through the flutter of some cottonwood trees.
[Note: That last line originally read "a cottonwood tree," but the six-year old found out I was writing partially about her, and asked me to read the entry aloud. When I got to the last line, she said, "Make it trees, not tree." So I did.]
