Unfortunately, we haven't the time for play. Ed's fixing his truck, pushing forward his patent, monitoring the ins and outs of milling machine production -- he's one busy guy!
I'm equally preoccupied, though with less ambitious tasks. But they all need to be wrapped up by Saturday, as I'm leaving then on my annual December trip (another short one!) across the ocean. So I'm running around doing very many very unimportant chores.
Breakfast, squeezed in between phone conferences (Ed's), grocery lists (mine), and an unexpected but so very delightful visit from friends.
I read that tomorrow is the meteorological start of winter. How funny! We're slated to reach the 50sF (above 10C) -- which has happened maybe once or twice in December in the past century.
As I pick up the little one after school, I'm assuming that she will want to spend her afternoon with me outside, at the park playground.
Not so. She does want to stay at the school playground for a while. Swings, yes, of course...
... but what really draws her today is the vast sand play area. She takes off her shoes, ready to plunge. I protest. Too cold, too uncomfortable, too shady, too wrong for November! She looks me straight in the eye to see if I mean business and then decides (correctly) that I am putty in her hands.
I do remain firm afterwards: you need to wash your hands.
She scoots away from me but then comes back. I'm sorry grandma...
Whoa... how did this girl grow up to be so... good?
I ask her then if she still wants to go to the park, or perhaps the coffee shop?
She chooses the latter. I understand. We're truly done with fall frolic by the lesser lake. There are better (warmer!) ways to spend our time together.
(She still delights in playing school in the car before we head home... I mean, she can spin her stories here for a very very long time!)
Finally, farmhouse.
Testing the new-ish couch.
She approves!
It's her last visit to the farmhouse for a while. Still, I feel we haven't fully explored our play possibilities. I wanted to do this and that and then some more of the other!
It's a funny thing being a grandparent: on the one hand, your energy levels aren't where they may have been, say, thirty years back. At the same time, you've figured out where you could possibly help a child most. Even as there's never enough time to do all that you know would help.
But for now, she is at peace. As are we. November was one heck of a thrilling month.
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