It is, however, my early day with Snowdrop. As I get up, I feel a deep compassion for a sleeping Ed (he has been working on his invention every night, late into the night, for weeks now) and I almost do not tell him that I'd let the cheepers out and am myself ready to eat and run. But, he must have sensed or heard by knocking about, because he came down in a rather bedraggled state (yes, more so than usual!) to keep me company and nibble on some fruit.
I then do a hasty retreat. You don't want to be a tardy sitter when people depend on you.
Snowdrop wakes up earlier than usual. Initially she is peppy and boisterous...
(Little one, you so need a bath! You have bits of oatmeal on your cheeks!)
But eventually she and I settle into quiet play. Now, I did find a new toy -- a small football -- lying around, but honestly, I am the wrong person to teach her enthusiasm for the sport. Oh, I give it to her...
(Grab it, Snowdrop!)
(Huh?)
She looks for further instruction and upon receiving none (what, should I tell her to kick it?), she puts it aside and settles down to read. If anyone is going to make a Packer fan out of her, it wont be me.
Trains on the other hand --- yes, I can get enthusiastic about those!
Toward noon, she stomps around, in a tired kind of way...
(I am sympathetic, sweet one!)
... mostly from my lap to a toy, then back to me, begging for a lift.
And this is when I get the crucial email from Warsaw: the owners of the pink horror have accepted my offer and so tomorrow, if my finicky but very clever attorney sees no impediments, we shall have in place a signed agreement.
I am tickled pink!
It seems that this brash colored flat will be my Valentine adventure after all.
I'll end with that. Some days, you just have to let go of everything but the bare essentials. I think today I covered the bare essentials.