weekend at the farmette, continued

If your grandkids come to you for a long visit, you are much more likely to go about your business and take their ups and downs in stride. It would be like my time with Snowdrop and Sparrow after school: on some days they are tired, perhaps a little under the weather, on other days they are aglow with radiance and joy. My job is to calm them, give them space, guide them toward productive play, read to them, help them find ways to play together. But I don't see it as my role to keep them in stitches. Oh, I surely do like it when they are full of laughter, but if they're sulky (a rarity, but it happens), unless they seem in need of help, I let them be.

But if they are here for a weekend, well that's a different story. If they get weighed down by some calamity, then the whole visit can be thrown off. There may not be time to recover, especially if they feed off of each other, in the way that siblings do when they are together and away from home. And so I work harder to keep the juices flowing in a positive direction. It becomes important for them to get enough rest and to eat well. I have lists of possible distractions. I think about ways to make the days extra special. (Which is why by the end of the weekend, I am exhausted! Not because I am with them 24/7, but because I fret about each hour that they are here.)

A good night's rest helps keep things sane the next day and I have to say, we failed on that one. Sparrow is up at 5:35 -- an hour earlier than normal. Snowdrop comes down at 6:25 -- that, too, is significantly earlier than her weekend normal.






I predict that by the afternoon, I'll be brewing a third cup of coffee!

(Much later: this is what a sunrise looks like!)






Breakfast is somewhat irregular. Neither child eats a lot in the morning and one is ready to stop before the other one is fully awake. I bring in the tail end with my oatmeal...






Their play is a circle of activity, repeated again and then once more. Duplos, windowsill story telling while he feeds macarons to his new love -- one of her babies, then art, books, dollhouse tales, a return to the windowsill story, etc.

















I do a very early lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches.






And ice cream.






For entertainment, I offer a lesson on beard trimming. (Yesterday was the "before," this is the "after.")






And then at least the little guy gets to catch up on some sleep.


In the afternoon, I suggest outings. I suggest adventures. They resist. Even though it's drop dead gorgeous outside!

(Learning the workings of Ed's watch -- a nearly 50 year old cheap Timex.)






More pretend: Snowdrop tells me -- I let little kids live their dreams. (That may have been the case, until Sparrow took the toy cookie that was part of her set up.)






Evening. I do that really easy dinner. Pizza. That's how much this grandma wants to pander to the awesome duo. (They are always surprised that Ed goes out to get it. We may be the only ones who never do delivery.)






And once more, we have a movie night. I tell Snowdrop that so long as her brother is too young to care, she can have free reign. By next "weekend at grandma's," however, she may have to hand over to him some of the decision making.

(Today she chooses Moana... yet another Disney super hit...)






Bedtime. There is a book here that I have read to Snowdrop each of the dozens of nights she has slept over (Goodnight Numbers). She asks for it again of course. I have this feeling I'll be reading it when she sleeps over before going off to college, possibly as a math major (you know, it's all about numbers).

I'll end with a Sparrow dance: he does love a happy ending. And to dance.