This afternoon--yes, it was warm enough here to pick flowers (er, weeds) in a sundress (my apologies East Coast...and Midwest...and Southeast)--Scout showed me how you hold flowers at a wedding. She's been thinking about weddings lately. The other night at dinner she asked Catcher if he had decided yet who he was going to marry. Catcher, the practical first child, responded with "Are you kidding me? I'm only six!" To which Scout simply sighed and placed her hand on her chin, pining "I don't know who I'm going to marry." I reminded her that she doesn't have to marry anyone, a concept that she finds bizarre, and she looked at me with her still solemn face and said "I know. You told me that. But I think I want to. I just can't decide who." Catcher rolled his eyes.
Tillie, on the other hand, wasn't dreaming of weddings. She was more interested in playing in the dirt, picking weeds and not posing for the camera. I finally got her to acquiesce after a series of photo bombs, but she still wasn't buying the whole wedding business.