Friday in Chicago

For a split second, I am reminded of Paris. I wonder how this could be: Chicago hasn't an architectural style that is reminiscent of any city in France. Maybe it's these kids who are doing what so many French kids do -- using a scooter to get around (except here, we pay attention to scooter and bike safety -- kids wear helmets).






Or maybe it's that I'm in a city and it's warm and it feels green (unlike New York, which, in all the years that I lived there, never felt green).






Spring is so lovely in any place where you can watch things grow.





And speaking of watching something or someone grow, it's been three weeks since I've seen my youngest grandgirl, Primrose. She is almost two months old now and honestly, she must change daily because she surely is not the wee one I held on my last visit with her!

She is all smiles! There must be a gene that is shared between Primrose and Snowdrop -- the grin gene. Or, is it that both girls are happy kids?






Breakfast, with my daughter. Primrose horns in!






Someday little girl, you too will be begging for a bowl of oatmeal with kefir, fruit and honey!






Her mommy has stuff to do out and about. Excellent! Primrose and I can hang together. She's well fed and I'm told she should sleep soundly now.

Primrose has other plans.








Sweet girl, you must sleep! Let me walk you.
Okay, you're fine with that. But the good sitter is one who allows the child to fall asleep by herself!
Ah well, today, we do the walk-sleep.







Mommy's home. Eat, play, rest. They are simple routines, but each time, the play is more complicated, the girl is more eager to engage and be engaged.











Duckie? Sure, I'll play with duckie!






But Primrose, you must nap!

My visit ends. I leave them to their quiet rest.






On my way out of Chicago, I had wanted to stop and get some delicious Mindy Segal cookies for home, but none were available. Go get some donuts at Stan's instead. They're great!

I get some donuts.






This is the beginning of a long holiday weekend and I fully expect the highway to be packed, but it's not. The bus zips along at a good speed and by late evening I am home, at the farmhouse, where Ed and the cheepers and chicks linger, waiting perhaps, on this warm, summery May day.