It's not my move, of course. It's Snowdrop's and the young family's. Still, moves are stressful and if we can help make it less so, we'll do what we can.
Snowdrop is excited.
Not because of the new home idea (though she is young enough that she doesn't appear at all disturbed by what's ahead), but because her farmhouse bedroom has been invaded for the night by her parents.
She is up two hours too early and there is no coaxing her back to sleep. On the upside, she is feeling much better and her energy level is high (but she can't go to school today: you need to be fever free for a day before you can jump into the fray once more).
Still, we are all draaaaaaagging! Except for Snowdrop.
Slow down, little girl, slow down today! How about a book?
... or two or three...
Breakfast is a jumble of different people eating at different times, though in the end, Ed and I sit down together and Snowdrop comes along for the ride, if only for a short while.
After -- she is again a whirlwind of activity.
Can I put on your lipstick, mommy -- asks the little girl in the astronaut pj's.
Okay, but just a little..
It's not just a little.
Later in the morning, the parents are off to sell one house and buy the other...
(I'm sweeping up chicken droppings... as always, Snowdrop helps.)
...and I begin to nudge the little girl toward a bath.
I move her along to where she is without clothes and the little tub is ready and waiting (in the kitchen sink!), but she will not stop playing...
Want to sit next to me ahah and pretend to eat peaches?
He never says no.
Come inside the tent, gaga!
And this continues all the way until lunch time.
Snowdrop, you really must have a bath now!
Finally, bath checked off, we turn to lunch, on the porch.
Pesto pasta.
Ice cream sandwiches...
And she really should be so tired now, but she keeps on truckin'!
I'm drawing my hands with mittens on them.
Well I'm drawing butterfly wings with mittens on them!
Going strong!
Until I take out the books and the bowl of fruits -- a signal to stop and nap.
As for my garden -- well, somewhere in there I cleaned the bed by the porch. It's just too in my face to leave alone. Again, it feels like the lilies are really waning. And yet I remove 75 spent blooms just from this one bed. (And I stop at that for today.)
(The cheepers are never too far away...)
(These lilies are at the side of the driveway: they're real August girls!)
Late afternoon. I nudge Snowdrop to wake up.
It's time to go home. Your new home.
She's on it!
How many times in her life will she run up the hill to the front door?
Boxes are still coming in, but some stuff is out already. She finds her hedgehog. Familiar, silly, comfy.
She's home.
Time for us to go home as well. A quiet farmhouse, across the road from a field of sandhills, who appear to me at least to look up, in search of that friendly wave of a little one, calling out to them -- hi cranes!
Snowdrop is excited.
Not because of the new home idea (though she is young enough that she doesn't appear at all disturbed by what's ahead), but because her farmhouse bedroom has been invaded for the night by her parents.
She is up two hours too early and there is no coaxing her back to sleep. On the upside, she is feeling much better and her energy level is high (but she can't go to school today: you need to be fever free for a day before you can jump into the fray once more).
Still, we are all draaaaaaagging! Except for Snowdrop.
Slow down, little girl, slow down today! How about a book?
... or two or three...
Breakfast is a jumble of different people eating at different times, though in the end, Ed and I sit down together and Snowdrop comes along for the ride, if only for a short while.
After -- she is again a whirlwind of activity.
Can I put on your lipstick, mommy -- asks the little girl in the astronaut pj's.
Okay, but just a little..
It's not just a little.
Later in the morning, the parents are off to sell one house and buy the other...
(I'm sweeping up chicken droppings... as always, Snowdrop helps.)
...and I begin to nudge the little girl toward a bath.
I move her along to where she is without clothes and the little tub is ready and waiting (in the kitchen sink!), but she will not stop playing...
Want to sit next to me ahah and pretend to eat peaches?
He never says no.
Come inside the tent, gaga!
And this continues all the way until lunch time.
Snowdrop, you really must have a bath now!
Finally, bath checked off, we turn to lunch, on the porch.
Pesto pasta.
Ice cream sandwiches...
And she really should be so tired now, but she keeps on truckin'!
I'm drawing my hands with mittens on them.
Well I'm drawing butterfly wings with mittens on them!
Going strong!
Until I take out the books and the bowl of fruits -- a signal to stop and nap.
As for my garden -- well, somewhere in there I cleaned the bed by the porch. It's just too in my face to leave alone. Again, it feels like the lilies are really waning. And yet I remove 75 spent blooms just from this one bed. (And I stop at that for today.)
(The cheepers are never too far away...)
(These lilies are at the side of the driveway: they're real August girls!)
Late afternoon. I nudge Snowdrop to wake up.
It's time to go home. Your new home.
She's on it!
How many times in her life will she run up the hill to the front door?
Boxes are still coming in, but some stuff is out already. She finds her hedgehog. Familiar, silly, comfy.
She's home.
Time for us to go home as well. A quiet farmhouse, across the road from a field of sandhills, who appear to me at least to look up, in search of that friendly wave of a little one, calling out to them -- hi cranes!
