A pouty morning soon turns into a wet morning, with rumbles and thunderous grumbles reminding us that everything comes in a package: sunny days are mixed in with rainy days and you have to be equally cheerful about the rainy ones because really, we need plenty of both to make our gardens grow.
(And the winning clump of daffodils to show the first set of blooms is this one!)
We eat breakfast in the front room...
... and then, very quickly, I'm off to be with Snowdrop.
She is just waking up and so I have the pleasant task of feeding her breakfast and watching her play for a few minutes before her bath (hence the astronaut pj's).
I'd been thinking recently how intense her play can get. In the photo above, she is playing with penguin nesting dolls. She has always loved the nesting doll idea, but this one is most perfect because of the animal under consideration and because they're fairly easy to take apart.
The putting together is trickier. There are four dolls, but since each is composed of two parts, there are really some 28 combinations of joining parts together (and that's before you include the second step of pairing multiples of the pieces). I swear she tries them all. She is so determined to figure out how it all works! And what is most remarkable is that she does not get frustrated when it doesn't fall into place. (Me on the other hand -- I can hardly stand it. Several times I can't hold back -- I nudge her to the piece that fits, but she doesn't want my help and she continues to soldier on on her own.)
Alright. Bath time, running around time -- a good mooded girl is with us today. What does it matter that it's a rainy day? Inside, there's so much to do!
So much!
Like any kid, she is active in a number of ways, but what again astonishes me no end is how at a certain point, she'll apply herself to a task and then spend long long minutes working through it. Here's one more example: she picked up a small cook book off of her mommy's shelf. I'd never seen it before -- it looks old. Perhaps a gift from a past satisfied user? In any case, it's small. Snowdrop wants to master turning the pages one by one.
Not in a clump, not just a few, but all of them, one by one.
All the while showing no exasperation. If it doesn't quite come out right, she goes back and does it again. There is no frown, no disgruntlement. Merely quiet determination.
I cannot tell how long she sat doing this, but I can say this -- she showed unbelievable patience for the job (me -- less so; again I reached to hold down something for her and again she gently picked up my hand and moved it away).
So are we born with patience? I know Ed has it in vast quantities. But in Snowdrop's case it surely isn't learned. Do some of us (most of us?) lose it over time? I've not seen Snowdrop be frustrated with failure yet. Will she not know frustration in the way that I know it?
She continues her task standing up...
Finally, she is done. Off and running.
In the afternoon, the rain comes in gusts and sprinkles. I propose an outing to the store. You tell Snowdrop we're going somewhere that requires shoes and a jackets and she is on it!
We make our way to Trader Joe's for life's essentials: flowers, nuts, chocolate and a bottle of wine. The checkout guy teases her about the wine and when she looks a little uncertain, he offers her a bunch of stickers with flowers on them. This is the first time I've seen her be bribed with stickers and I consider it a real rite of passage.
We're just across the street from a cafe she and I like and so we stop by for an espresso (for me) and a scone (for Ed, but she gets a nibble). She is mesmerized. Not by the scone (though she likes her crumb just fine) but by a baby at another table.
She cannot get enough of that scene where the mom and dad attend to some work, but also to the kid who by my estimation is exactly half Snowdrop's age.
But when we pass by the table and the sweet dad tries to engage her, she turns shy, as if it's too much to enter a world where she was once the observer but now is expected to be an active participant.
And finally, I swing by a house where I pick up our week's supply of CSA spinach. It's raining again but Snowdrop and I don't mind. Besides, there's a reward at the end of the road: I let her sample a leaf of our winter indulgence.
Yes, she likes it as much as that crumb of scone.
We go home singing in the car the whole way. (That is -- I sing and she babbles. But I swear, she tries to be part of the same song!)
(And the winning clump of daffodils to show the first set of blooms is this one!)
We eat breakfast in the front room...
... and then, very quickly, I'm off to be with Snowdrop.
She is just waking up and so I have the pleasant task of feeding her breakfast and watching her play for a few minutes before her bath (hence the astronaut pj's).
I'd been thinking recently how intense her play can get. In the photo above, she is playing with penguin nesting dolls. She has always loved the nesting doll idea, but this one is most perfect because of the animal under consideration and because they're fairly easy to take apart.
The putting together is trickier. There are four dolls, but since each is composed of two parts, there are really some 28 combinations of joining parts together (and that's before you include the second step of pairing multiples of the pieces). I swear she tries them all. She is so determined to figure out how it all works! And what is most remarkable is that she does not get frustrated when it doesn't fall into place. (Me on the other hand -- I can hardly stand it. Several times I can't hold back -- I nudge her to the piece that fits, but she doesn't want my help and she continues to soldier on on her own.)
Alright. Bath time, running around time -- a good mooded girl is with us today. What does it matter that it's a rainy day? Inside, there's so much to do!
So much!
Like any kid, she is active in a number of ways, but what again astonishes me no end is how at a certain point, she'll apply herself to a task and then spend long long minutes working through it. Here's one more example: she picked up a small cook book off of her mommy's shelf. I'd never seen it before -- it looks old. Perhaps a gift from a past satisfied user? In any case, it's small. Snowdrop wants to master turning the pages one by one.
Not in a clump, not just a few, but all of them, one by one.
All the while showing no exasperation. If it doesn't quite come out right, she goes back and does it again. There is no frown, no disgruntlement. Merely quiet determination.
I cannot tell how long she sat doing this, but I can say this -- she showed unbelievable patience for the job (me -- less so; again I reached to hold down something for her and again she gently picked up my hand and moved it away).
So are we born with patience? I know Ed has it in vast quantities. But in Snowdrop's case it surely isn't learned. Do some of us (most of us?) lose it over time? I've not seen Snowdrop be frustrated with failure yet. Will she not know frustration in the way that I know it?
She continues her task standing up...
Finally, she is done. Off and running.
In the afternoon, the rain comes in gusts and sprinkles. I propose an outing to the store. You tell Snowdrop we're going somewhere that requires shoes and a jackets and she is on it!
We make our way to Trader Joe's for life's essentials: flowers, nuts, chocolate and a bottle of wine. The checkout guy teases her about the wine and when she looks a little uncertain, he offers her a bunch of stickers with flowers on them. This is the first time I've seen her be bribed with stickers and I consider it a real rite of passage.
We're just across the street from a cafe she and I like and so we stop by for an espresso (for me) and a scone (for Ed, but she gets a nibble). She is mesmerized. Not by the scone (though she likes her crumb just fine) but by a baby at another table.
She cannot get enough of that scene where the mom and dad attend to some work, but also to the kid who by my estimation is exactly half Snowdrop's age.
But when we pass by the table and the sweet dad tries to engage her, she turns shy, as if it's too much to enter a world where she was once the observer but now is expected to be an active participant.
And finally, I swing by a house where I pick up our week's supply of CSA spinach. It's raining again but Snowdrop and I don't mind. Besides, there's a reward at the end of the road: I let her sample a leaf of our winter indulgence.
Yes, she likes it as much as that crumb of scone.
We go home singing in the car the whole way. (That is -- I sing and she babbles. But I swear, she tries to be part of the same song!)
