Today is the first day of my two plus week vacation. I won't have to go back to work until Jan. 5. It's been so long that I took this much time off all at once, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.
Play. Play is the main reason for living for MiniMe. And at a time when so many kids are staying indoors connected to videogames, computers and tvs like umbilical cords, I'm grateful that MiniMe loves to play. She plays with the other kids in the neighborhood, she plays with our dogs, she plays independently in her room. Last night she climbed into bed with me for a mother-daughter chat. She'd had a confusing day. Seems she was playing with a girl in her class she seems to get along with best and she invited another girl to play with them. But the first girl didn't want the new girl to play. Isabel was trying to be peacemaker. She's often in this role on the playground. Why are girls so difficult about getting along with each other? Oh but to have my only daily dilemma be who to play with . . .
I was hanging the stockings over the fireplace this weekend and remembered one of my favorite childhood Christmas experiences. Each year when I get out the stockings, I think of the time that my sister and I got new stockings one holiday. Out went the old, small felt stockings, replaced with much bigger white stockings made of a fluffy white material. Mom proudly hung the stockings near the tree. She wasn't out of the room 5 minutes before my sister and I had those stockings on our feet and were sliding across the room in them. Actually we took turns, first I'd put the stockings on my feet and she'd pull me around the house (hardwoord floors) then we'd switch. A couple days later my mom exclaims "What happened to the new Christmas stockings!!" still hanging in their usual place, now with the bottoms of the stockings stained black.
In true crazy dog lady fashion, I hung a stocking for the dogs. Two dogs, one stocking. It's already stuffed with new chew toys, new leashes and there's a package of pupperoni wrapped under the tree. No stocking for the guinea pig. Guess I'm playing favorites . . .