Foggy Friday. Life is full of tradeoffs. With warmer temps come slate gray skies and heavy mists. Our cold crisp brilliantly blue winters have turned into something altogether different. What do you prefer -- cold and crisp or warm-ish and bleak?
Impossible questions. I think of many such pairings today: who will you pay attention to -- your enemies or your friends? Would you help one neighbor or ten strangers? What comes first, the chicken or the egg?
(I see that Snowdrop is also contemplative: what lies beyond the rail -- adventure or danger? Who's around the corner -- a friendly face or a grumpy soul?)
Snowdrop chooses optimism. Nearly always, she trusts that the adult next to her will give a hand when the going gets tough. She is not shy about announcing "I need help." And with the assurance that someone will be there for her, she can run freely, with joy.
At the farmette, she wants to splash in puddles again. I suggest a bagel inside instead. She caves.
There must have been an art project at school because her dress is caked in stuff you'd normally want to see on an art table. I use this moment to change her into her Polish dress.
It's a tad small on her so I doubt she'll use it much and, too, it just doesn't fit into the picture of where she is right now. Nothing in her life is Polish except for me, gaga. Perhaps it reminds me a little of the day in my Polish nursery school when they dressed me in a mock kimono.
Here's Snowdrop:
Here I am about twice her age, with my sister. She's wearing a Polish costume, I'm in the kimono that I neither understood nor found especially comfortable:
This afternoon, Snowdrop continues to take on art projects.
I am impressed that she is now perfectly capable of coloring within a border. I never once suggested that she contain her coloring in any way and indeed, I tend to scribble randomly alongside so that she understands that there are many ways to draw. And still, with utmost concentration she now chooses to be deliberate rather than random.
Alright. Let's not get too serious with this day. There's plenty of room for hilarity. Here, Snowdrop is showing me how she can walk on her knees. When she tumbles, peels of laughter follow.
In the evening, I take her back to her home and linger there to catch up a bit with her mommy. Of course, Snowdrop steels the stage and however much you may want to ignore her when she is in the room, chatting about this or that, you just cannot. Her smile becomes your smile.
Winter drizzle, Snowdrop smiles. I'll take them!
Impossible questions. I think of many such pairings today: who will you pay attention to -- your enemies or your friends? Would you help one neighbor or ten strangers? What comes first, the chicken or the egg?
(I see that Snowdrop is also contemplative: what lies beyond the rail -- adventure or danger? Who's around the corner -- a friendly face or a grumpy soul?)
Snowdrop chooses optimism. Nearly always, she trusts that the adult next to her will give a hand when the going gets tough. She is not shy about announcing "I need help." And with the assurance that someone will be there for her, she can run freely, with joy.
At the farmette, she wants to splash in puddles again. I suggest a bagel inside instead. She caves.
There must have been an art project at school because her dress is caked in stuff you'd normally want to see on an art table. I use this moment to change her into her Polish dress.
It's a tad small on her so I doubt she'll use it much and, too, it just doesn't fit into the picture of where she is right now. Nothing in her life is Polish except for me, gaga. Perhaps it reminds me a little of the day in my Polish nursery school when they dressed me in a mock kimono.
Here's Snowdrop:
Here I am about twice her age, with my sister. She's wearing a Polish costume, I'm in the kimono that I neither understood nor found especially comfortable:
This afternoon, Snowdrop continues to take on art projects.
I am impressed that she is now perfectly capable of coloring within a border. I never once suggested that she contain her coloring in any way and indeed, I tend to scribble randomly alongside so that she understands that there are many ways to draw. And still, with utmost concentration she now chooses to be deliberate rather than random.
Alright. Let's not get too serious with this day. There's plenty of room for hilarity. Here, Snowdrop is showing me how she can walk on her knees. When she tumbles, peels of laughter follow.
In the evening, I take her back to her home and linger there to catch up a bit with her mommy. Of course, Snowdrop steels the stage and however much you may want to ignore her when she is in the room, chatting about this or that, you just cannot. Her smile becomes your smile.
Winter drizzle, Snowdrop smiles. I'll take them!
