Every Monday morning, my daughter, Mary, has a play date at her cousin Janie's house. Mary loves play dates. And even though they bicker like an old married couple, Mary and Janie really and truly love each other. What Mary does not like is when it's 11:15 am, on a Play Date Monday – meaning her scheduled play date is officially o-v-e-r, meaning it's time for her to return to her own boring house for a rest. Yesterday, my niece, Isabelle (Jane's older sister), walked Mary the two blocks home where I was waiting for them on the porch. Why, hello little storm cloud! Welcome back! I said to my girl, my pouting, fuming little girl with the furrowed brow, green marker on her cheek and sprinkled cookie in her hand. Oh, it's hard to be four-years-old, isn't it? It's hard to be four, ten, thirty-five-and-a-half. I carried her stiff-as-a-board scrawny body upstairs to my bedroom and read her books, tickled her back until she thawed. And though there was plenty for me to do, more than enough on my plate to get accomplished ASAP, I melted into her. Within seconds, we were both out. Oh my goodness, what a treat! What a nap!
So, tomorrow is Wednesday! If you are not already uber-busy, planning, baking, traveling for your Thanksgiving festivities, I invite you to post on your blog a poem about gratitude (or about anything for which you are grateful) and then share it with the rest of us by linking to it HERE. Like I said earlier, reading poems is my new favorite hobby, which is why I am groveling here on my blog for your participation. I already have my own poem picked out and ready to go, along with a ridiculous photo that I guarantee will have you scratching your head and thinking, Hmmm, maybe Molly should get out more. Until then, happy packing, happy preparing, happy pondering on all of the many bold and understated blessings in your life!