Spring break, near west side style

At the beach

Laying an egg

Sick in bed

You have been warned

"Mommy! It turns out that James doesn't like ballet," says Henry, as we are heading into the back yard to feed the dogs.

I am sure I have misunderstood. "He doesn't like what?"

"Really?" I consider whether Peter might have interrupted a You Tube viewing session devoted to best-of monster truck rally montages and firefighters leaping out of trucks to rescue kittens from the flames to show the boys a clip from Giselle. "Really?"

"Yes. And he said that if a ballet-er comes to our yard, he will fight her."