Saturdays in Concord are a whirl of activity. First, the dawn patrol. “M. You awake, M?” Gentle pats on head and strokings of remaining hairs. “M? Are you making a joke, M?” Little pokes to see if I’m really asleep. “Let’s go downstairs, M.” At this point, I sometimes open one eye, look aghast at the clock, haul her giggling under the covers, and suggest we go back to sleep. Success is only occasional. Fallback position is often a brief tour of YouTube Sesame Street videos on my computer…but only after I hustle downstairs to turn the wireless on. Either way, we’re usually downstairs sharing our Wheaties sooner by an hour or two than I would have made a kitchen appearance if left to my own devices. We discuss the variety of cereal in the cupboard, whether she would prefer a little bowl or a grown-up bowl this morning, the milk choices available in the fridge (two soy milks, white milk, occasionally a little very special chocolate milk), and why I use lemon in my tea.

We then hang out in the living room until mama and daddy appear for their breakfasts. Afterward, the velocity of the day gradually picks up. Until, zoom: boots, coat, hat, mitts, and we’re off to the farmers’ market, which is held indoors at some distance during the winter. There’s almost always a small group playing music, to which B invariably responds, despite style or rhythm, with a sort of swanning ballet, before she cadges a bill from daddy or me to put in the bowl or instrument case.

Then quick, quick, back into the car, and the hustle back into Concord for the weekly swim lesson at the Y. Mama gets her ready and takes her to the pool, then all three of us watch the lesson from the balcony above. Waves exchanged. She’s gotten very comfortable in the water, is terrifically proud of being able to put her face under water, is down from four flotation bubbles to one, and still paddles and kicks off on her own when the teacher turns her attention to the four other kids in the class. Gentle pursuit and herding back to the edge.

Cafe (where she wants to study those options), home, lunch, nap. Phew. This is when Mom and Dad might head out for a run or ride. But the wind was whipping in New Hampshire this weekend, and they decided their club swim workout Friday night was sufficient.

In the afternoon, wind or not, though, it’s off to ski.We always manage at least one Stooge moment. This one involved my skis and B’s interlaced in a way you would assume to be impossible for rigid forms. H sorted out the spaghetti, though, and off we went. Today, H mostly held onto B from behind, using the reins attached to her harness. This meant that B was skiing on her own, without support and without anyone catching her if she began to fall. Which she hardly did at all. She was terrific, bending her knees and even turning, a little bit, sort of. But what she really likes is going fast. Super fun to watch, and big grins all around. Of course, we still needed a chocolate break (Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for her, Nestles Crunch for me…and, well, that’s Crunch she’s eating in the picture, too.)

A great weekend.

But remind me to tell you sometime about our skunk infestation back at the old Woodbury homestead.

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