Friday

To a large degree, we are responsible for our own happiness or lack thereof. Not fully -- you can't help being born into war, disease, poverty and other cataclysmic events. But for the average person who is lucky enough not to be plagued by any of these -- well, you plant your own garden, so to speak.

Except when you're little. As I go through the steps of ushering yet another generation of young ones (or more accurately -- one young one) through the everyday, because I am less rushed and less harried, I have more time to think about what I'm doing.Here's my take on today:

Snowdrop did not have the happiest after school hour and I'd say it was almost entirely my fault. She felt (and expressed!) the dissatisfaction with what were, in effect, dumb moves on my part.

You can't totally blame me. I was overly optimistic. All that sunshine!







True, I should have taken my cues from the cheepers who took an awfully long time to alight from the barn...






But I am dizzy with the sunshine and, too, with the knowledge that this is to be the last really cold day, probably for the rest of winter and surely for the spring that's just ahead.

So when I pick up the little girl at school, I decide to repeat yesterday's brief dance with the outdoors and I offer her an excursion (by car) to the local playground. For the swing.

Oh, she is happy with that!






Until her hood blows off in the wind. I put it back on. It blows off again. And again. Snapping it shut does not appease her. By now she is complaining that she really really wants her mitts. A smart gaga would have looked in her coat pocket and found a pair, but I was not feeling especially clever so I pulled her sleeve over her hands and told her to make do.

A two year old doesn't understand the term "make do."

I take a very unhappy girl out of the swing and drive her to the farmhouse. To add to her woes, she had splashed herself silly washing up after lunch in school and so once home, I have to disrobe and change her. I look down at the kitchen floor to see a very naked and very upset little girl with a tear stained face buried in the runner rug.

Good job, gaga!

The thing is, kids forgive you so quickly for your poor choices in life. Within a minute she is in my lap, saying over and over "I want my gaga," which of course melts my heart, especially since I very much felt she should be saying "I do NOT want my gaga, I want someone who knows how to care for a two year old," but there you have it.

Moments later, Snowdrop is playing with her characters while munching her very cheesy croissant. She arranges a very lovely scene where the Snowdrop lookalike character is pushing around the gaga lookalike in the toy wheelchair.






Following this, she demonstrates to me how well she can sing "ring around a rosy," with of course the requisite dance...






... and the part where "we all fall down."






I'm guessing it's a school game.

Onto crayons...






("What should I draw?")





... and the day's balance is restored.


Later, much later, we return to Snowdrop's home. As is often the case on Fridays, I linger with the young family. Snowdrop is so content when we're all there for her!  (She finds her mommy's badger cap... puts it on...)







This is when she blurts out her affections without hesitation. And sure enough, this is when I first hear her say boldly and bluntly -- I wuv gaga!

I leave them dancing. Her dad had clued her into the Finnish penguin dance on youtube the night before and though I swear this is not a version of it, I had to smile as I retreated. A dancing family:





There is a moon and it shines brightly on us -- on all of us. How cool is that!