Tuesday, January 27, 2015


If it's Tuesday, it must be grandma's farmhouse!

We have this routine going and so sure enough, after the usual morning preoccupations -- the morning walk to let out the cheepers...


...followed by breakfast...


... I ready the house for my little visitor.


Ed looks at little Snowdrop.
Does it have teeth yet?
No teeth and she's not an it, she's a girl.
What, do you want to give her labels? And have her earn 80 cents to the dollar? Don't you want to keep the she or he out of it?
She's a girl. Want to hold her?
Maybe later.
Maybe now?


Little Snowdrop stretches her hand, Ed stretches his, supporting her tiny fist. I notice that his hand is longer than her entire arm.


She's in pink.
She wears all colors. For now. Until she has her own opinion. I dressed my baby in oshkosh b'gosh overalls, until she was old enough to tell me she preferred skirts.
Do you think girls care more than boys about how they look? This from a man who cares not a single bit about how he looks. For the camera or otherwise.

We speculate a little about appearance, and choice, and socialization -- topics not normally part of Ed's repertoire. 

It is the beginning of a good visit.

(Though Isie boy retains his doubts. I coax him to check her out. He does. Reluctantly. Then disappears.)


No time to cook tonight. I play with Snowdrop and ask Ed to pick up some take-out Thai.


When he returns, he looks around. No Snowdrop. Where is she? -- he asks. Do I detect a tiny expression of regret when I tell him she went home?