"Special Time"

It is now snowing outside. Or maybe it's stopped. Well, it was snowing a bit ago. All week it's been melty rainy. And now snow is happening again. I'm still surprised by the beauty and glory of it, even if it's tiring to walk in after a while.

School has started. Schedule of sorts has started. I've been trundling up and down the hill to the Crowes, and it's good to be getting "into the swing of things." Whatever that is :)

Right now the day is sort of broken up into half hour bits, which is nice. I guess I have a short attention span. So besides doing a spot of housework, I'm spending an alotted amount of time with each kid. Clark as "special time" then Noey, then an hour of school with Brent. After lunch, an hour of school with Tuck, then reading time with Bron and time with Rodge. I love reading with the kids.

Bron and I have been engrossed in The Penderwicks, and I don't care what the target age is, I'm just as excited about the book as she is (or maybe more). It's my favorite part of the day :) We like to snuggle up together with tea and a blanket, and she's so warm and cuddly...

I'm amazed at how the kids enjoy "special time." I always have, but didn't realize they would prize undivided attention so much. The first day, Clarky, who is just three this month, was eager for his special time, already knowing what it meant from previous "special times" with various family members. We drove tractors all over the living room and then read Who's Making That Mess and admired the colorful illustrations, peeking behind every flap.

The second day, he was immediately ready. "Have special time with Cassie, Mom?" "Cassie, I wanna have special time with you." So we built towers with wooden blocks while Noah observed woefully from the confines of an orange and white playpen. He hung on the rail and mashed him face into a grotesque expression on the netting. Eventually it was his turn, so we didn't feel too bad. "You're fun, Cassie." Clark flattered, regarding me with his arresting steely-green eyes and those long dark eyelashes. It's nice to be genuinely liked, even by someone who's under three feet tall. Maybe especially by someone who's under three feet tall.

He didn't want to stop playing. "We can play Legos now?" he inquired hopefully as I went to rescue Noah from his playpen. "Maybe tomorrow," I told him. "Tomorrow we'll have special time again."

Today I opted for the more the more toddler-friendly activity of coloring pictures and making them into paper airplanes. "Samolyot," I said in Russian :)

Sometimes I get so bored trying to play with kids it makes me feel almost sick. But the rewards are so great, and it's not always drudgery. It turns out to be fun. You start to really bond with the little gooberheads. And kids offer a kind of honest companionship that comes quicker than the kind you have with more grown up people, a kind that takes wading through a lot of foolishness about what people think and what they mean and personality differences and your own painful inhibitions and just time before you can grow real, gritty, gripping trust. At least this is the way it seems for me.

Dark has fallen. I'm eating supper with the Crowes and then trekking home to prayer meeting, which reminds me...I should call Masha. Oh, and here's a random picture of the orthodox church in Rz last week in the snow. Isn't it beautiful?