Easy Like Sunday Morning
Sunday is the best day.
We wake up - usually without much on our agenda. Wake and get dressed. One of us, usually me, gets to sleep in a bit before joining the family. (The other parent has already had a lie-in on Saturday, if our schedule allows.)
We load ourselves up - jackets and shoes, and into the stroller or on to the bike and walk to the park.
It's farmer's market day!
We wander the stalls first - bright green squash, broccoli, red apples, and pears. We pick a vegetable, trying to find something new to taste. We pick tamales - chicken mole for the kids, spicy chili pork for Dad. We stop at our favorite stand, Oscar's bakery. We get bread, knishes, empanadas and quiche.
Hurry home - scramble some eggs, brew the coffee and eat.
Now it's time to clear the table, and the kids are playing in their room. Something complicated that's involving all the blankets and snuggle friends. Something that has them dissolving into the sort of laughter I want to bottle up and save for the dark days, the afternoons when the sun sinks low in the sky too soon. Or those grey gloomy days that come in February.
Sunday is the best day.
We wake up - usually without much on our agenda. Wake and get dressed. One of us, usually me, gets to sleep in a bit before joining the family. (The other parent has already had a lie-in on Saturday, if our schedule allows.)
We load ourselves up - jackets and shoes, and into the stroller or on to the bike and walk to the park.
It's farmer's market day!
We wander the stalls first - bright green squash, broccoli, red apples, and pears. We pick a vegetable, trying to find something new to taste. We pick tamales - chicken mole for the kids, spicy chili pork for Dad. We stop at our favorite stand, Oscar's bakery. We get bread, knishes, empanadas and quiche.
Hurry home - scramble some eggs, brew the coffee and eat.
Now it's time to clear the table, and the kids are playing in their room. Something complicated that's involving all the blankets and snuggle friends. Something that has them dissolving into the sort of laughter I want to bottle up and save for the dark days, the afternoons when the sun sinks low in the sky too soon. Or those grey gloomy days that come in February.
Sunday is the best day.
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