The first thing I noticed when I took the dog out this morning was that it was warm. Really warm. The dog, for her part, noticed that it wasn’t raining, so right after she ate, she pretty much insisted that I take her out to play. I took her for a walk and let her run at the park down the street. She chased two crows, but came when I called like a good girl.
Papa had spent the night sleeping in a chair in his office at work (since he had to be there at 1am and then back at 6am), so he spent the later morning sleeping, while the kids took turns on my laptop. Girl was all about PBSkids.org, Boy was all about his coding lessons. Both things went very well. I read Boy the first chapter of our woodworking book, which was all about trees and wood. It rained on and off.
At one point, when it had cleared up and Boy had taken the dog out back, we heard a thump on a roof, and a bald eagle flew from the back to the front, low, with what looked to be one of our squirrels in its talons. We told Girl it was a fish, though, to keep her from being unduly upset. I went out back to see if Boy had seen the eagle (he hadn’t) but I stayed outside with him. I sat in a chair and looked up at the tree tops, watching songbirds and woodpeckers and crows, listening to bird songs.
Then Papa and Girl joined us, and we all stayed out for a couple of hours, playing this and that.
When we came back in, I realized that I was late to meet a friend, and more or less yelled something over my shoulder to Papa about making dinner for the kids on the way out the door. I met my friend at a bar, we had a late afternoon beer and a plate of fries and talked about things. Then we walked around town in the warm, warm January evening, still talking, before I drove the minivan home and found the kids all fed and in their jammies with teeth brushed, watching TV with Papa, waiting for me to come home and read them a story and get them in bed. Another Sunday.