I speak picturish

Busy day

Extended family trips bring a lot of joy both to little ones and grown ups. This time the place didn't involve grass and playing hide - and-seek behind the trees. And strangely enough, as I was to discover, the beach is still full of wonders even when you have it 50 m outside your front door the whole year round.

Following a good habit I insist that going out shouldn't always involve sandwiches and biscuits. I can promise you that, even the chat is better around the baking dish. And I have also noticed my kids kept coming back without being called...hmmm

 Well, some worked harder...

and others hardly worked at all,

but at the end of the day I was listening to the plea: "We can't go now. There are so many things we HAVE TO do..."

And so I've seen once more that wide spaces have that strange power of bringing people closer and taming the siblings issues.

We did get back.

But only late in the night.

I speak picturish

"I am..."

"Ich bin eine Prinzessin..." she said when she left the classroom at noon.

And that was it. Everything she did that day required a royal attitude, the little finger raised occasionally and the paper crown on her head - all the time.

And so dinner time found me with a very select company in my kitchen, working for her meal (rolling pancakes) and singing: Backe, Backe Kuchen...

Storytime in real lifetime.

I speak picturish

I speak picturish

Quiet morning

My mornings are usually a rush. I'm not an early riser. I've never been, but lately I really had  to wake up early and start checking my list of "to do"s of that day.

Not to mention that charming habit that I got during the last winter: to squeeeeze a few pages read just before the whole thing starts. That pushes my waking hour just a wee bit earlier, but I just don't have the heart (or the head) to let it go.

So today I was caught by surprise. Both kids asleep, the house was quiet. There was no list, I had plans for the day but they were very loose, so I got my book and went out on the terrace.

And for minutes the only noise I could hear was that coming from turning the pages. It must have been too late for the roosters, too early for the donkeys, too far away from any hens, too good-of-a-book to hear the buzzing of the insects.

And then I heard it loud and clear: purrrr-purrrr...

Happiness may come in many ways. I've just found a new one. (...or a meow one)