and the next day...

Snowdrop has a little clock that tells her when it's time to get up. I feel completely technologically challenged by it and in any case, I don't want to tamper with presets that the family probably counts on to move smoothly through morning routines and so I pretty much ignore it when she brings it to the farmhouse for a sleepover. Last night I vaguely remember groaning when she pointed out that it indicated that it was "already 9!" and "soon it will be time to get up!"

Thankfully, the presets had a weekend wake up time that was obviously later than the weekday normal and so it wasn't until after 8 when the little girl emerged from her room, carrying the clock and telling me in a very sleepy voice -- it's singing the wake up song, I have to be up!

Kids have this innate desire to do well by their parents, by their grandparents too and it's hard to tell them that certain rules have some flex in them, though God knows I tried: Snowdrop, you can go back to bed if you want.
No! The clock is telling me it's time to get up! Daddy said to listen to the clock!

Well, no matter. 8:15 is a good time to get the ball rolling on our morning!

As we come downstairs, she looks with hope at the balloons. Is it my birthday still?






No, not anymore. Now it's time to merely enjoy being four.






And one thing I'm surely finding out this weekend -- being four means that you want to do everything by yourself. Everything.






She is the master of her destiny!
Ed says -- I'm going to feed the cheepers and Stop Sign.
She says -- I just love doing that with ah-ah! I want to go!
I say -- you have to get dressed first. Jacket too. (It's just about at freezing outside.)
She says -- I don't need a jacket! I wont be cold!
I say -- Yes you will.
Ed says -- She'll be alright.

Guess who won that one?






It is in fact lovely to see her with the cheepers. Since she often dispenses corn for them, they follow her as they follow us -- ever hopeful, just a little bit pushy, always very excited.






(Well now, who is the leader of this pack?)






Surely Snowdrop must be a little cold by now! If she is, she wont admit it, though she is happy to return to the farmhouse soon after.






Time for the big breakfast! The usual stuff. Pancakes in the shape of little mouse heads. Some of Snowdrop's favorite books have mice families as the lead characters and perhaps for this reason, she has an unusually strong  affection for these little critters. As I was tucking her in last night, she asked -- does the owl live outside my bedroom window?
Hmm... not outside your window. The owl family lives high up in one of the trees out front. So, outside our window, where ah-ah and I sleep.
But not my window?
No, I guess not. There is no large tree by your window.
Good. I don't like owls.
Why not? They sing such beautiful songs at night! Like this... (I give my best Great Horned Owl mating call imitation.)
They eat mice!

So, mouse pancakes. With fruit for trim.






But I do insist that the job of dispensing maple syrup remains in the hands of the syrup guy.






I leave this morning chapter of Ocean with that typical Snowdrop gesture, which very much reminds me of an emoji that has become a family favorite -- the "what are you gonna do" shrug that comes from the realization that things happen! Rather regularly, for that matter.






In the afternoon, I give my camera a rest. Ed and I work on setting up cell phone service for my mom (well, it's mostly Ed and as I write this, he's still at it), I clean house, then retreat for a luxuriously long catch up call with a friend who lives too far away.

Because the young family has other engagements today, Ed and I eat a Sunday supper alone. Just as well. He's not very hungry. It could have something to do with the quickly disappearing leftover birthday cake in the refrigerator. What are you gonna do...