The washing machine is dowacka-do-ing and I have had a shower. The small batman that ran around all morning in nothing but a cape and a wild imagination? He’s dressed now in his boring Bruce Wayne clothes.
The baby who woke up demanding “Mik! Mi! Mik!” (“milk” you guys. He was saying “milk”) has gone back to bed. There was a kerfuffle over a little green tractor and it really wore him out.
My house is out of order and we are lucky to have enough sippy cups to go around, the cardboard boxes have heartlessly digested the rest of them.
There’s drama around every turn of the clock, and if ONLY we could WHISTLE to get the birds to come over to us. They are NOT coming, because we can’t WHISTLE.
And now, it’s time for Story Hour at the library. We will leave our mess and our boxes and our inability to whistle at home and greet the day with sunshine and finger puppets.