Monday

And now it's Monday again! For so many kids, it's the beginning of the last week of school this year. The final week before winter break. The beginning of the coast 'til Christmas.

I, too, live by a school schedule. Snwodrop's school schedule. And Primrose's, though at a distance. And soon, Sparrow's too. In other words, my grandkids set my calendar for me.

Were I to look outside, I'd notice a day that is lovelier than what a typical December day should have to offer. Sunshine again. A pleasant winter cool air. A prettiness to savor!





But, I'm still limping along and so I can't really run with wild abandon. (These days, I rarely run with wild abandon, but knowing that I can't even if I wanted to is maddening.)

Let's focus on what I can do. I can greet Sparrow as he comes this morning for his Monday visit!






Sweet happy boy!


 



So patient as I sit down to breakfast with Ed, even though I know he himself should be eating..






It's a morning of the usuals -- play, eat, nap, more play.





His lives still by such a simple schedule! Monday before winter break? What's that? Next year, little one. Next year you too will be a school boy!


In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here. I no longer even try to suggest a game or an activity. She knows what she wants to do and I let her set the agenda.






First, there is the table of work. Designing coins.






She ropes Ed into it as well. His coins have scary faces on them. Ah well: it's tough to accumulate good looking money.






And then she creates her vision of perfection: a country of pink (visited by a blue flamingo). This is where splendid things happen, where pink fills your senses, where life proceeds without mishaps or intrusions by, say green invaders.





We spend a long time imagining what it would be like to live in this rosy world.

Children. They tread lightly, leave a small footprint, accept their own small position in a household, maintaining humility. They don't regard themselves to be better than the animals they admire, and even at their most selfish moment, they don't demand more than a tiny piece of the world's bounty. Being in their company serves as a reminder that we are not born to pollute, destroy, create havoc. Hope lies in their small but loving little frames.


I take Snowdrop home by way of Clasen's Bakery. She is so in love with chocolate covered gingerbread cookies that I need to restock now, before they fly off the shelves for another year.






Home. Her home. Sparrow is napping, the tree lights twinkle.






And outside, the stars are luminous and the air is winter crisp.