Monday’s just a toot.

Intro.

Breakfast together before 7am. Whew. We can make a day full.

What what may come (how to plan ahead for your slumber-thinking).

A 3-year old tells me of his dream. It involved mirrors.

“When it’s dark then I don’t usually dream on those days, but when it’s a little light and a little dark then on those nights then I dream about mirrors.”

My favorite explanation today.

A 3-year old, who may or may not be the same figure as the mirror-dreamer, emits a noise that is startling in its decibelism, but hastens to quickly explain what happened:

“I’m not poopy. It was just a toot.”

Commute.

With three minutes to spare, we deposit relevant parties to the educational institution they shall learn within today. Then back on the road, for this day we shall be learning elsewhere.

Learnings.

We discuss Moses, Egypt, and the idea of slavery. There is playing. Lots of playing. Thousands of small animals and crayons are involved. Perhaps trillions or billions. We do some art projects, listen to lots of Baroque-era music, and have some conversations about healthy conflict resolution, as set against the backdrop of ages three and five.

Pickup.

We have this ritual for the times when I’m not on campus. It’s this: when we’re in the parking lot, parked, and looking for our Olders walking out, I try to snap a picture of them as they approach the car. They’re on high alert, trying to evade any such capture. I think they secretly love this ritual but pretend to be annoyed. Their smiles betray them. I better keep the ritual going.

Stop.

We accidentally end up at a playground on the way back. There is merriment, and some dissension and sadness at some points, due to…what was it due to? The details escape. Somehow, the details escape not only me, but the parties involved as well, which is a beautiful thing about memory sometimes: you forget things, and some of the things you forget are just as well forgotten.

Home.

One of my great skills is playing and hide and go seek in small places. I am super talented at it, especially if the other competitors are really small and way younger than me. In my memory, I won every indoor round we played.