S is for Slow, Saturday, Sunday and Shy
Stitch by stitch the blue yarn is becoming a blanket. It covers my lap, warm and soft. We have had a lazy Saturday and a slow Sunday. The kiddos are on a train ride to California. Every chair in the house in a straight line. Lamb and Tiger, doll and bear, Ivory and Sylvan passengers in one giant adventure. Sylvan drives. Ivory serves tea. Ivory drives. Sylvan is the caboose. I knit. I dream. I observe. I think. I remember. I picture myself crouched down, peering into Ivory's face, my arms wrapped around a tiny Sylvan and scolding her: "When someone tells you that your hair is pretty, you say thank you. When somebody says Hi to you, you say hi back. You are being rude when you just ignore people." She looks back at me with tears in her eyes: " But Mama, I'm shy." I was exasperated. I couldn't imagine that my little girl who seems to have no problem approaching strangers, dominating other mother's laps and leading gangs of child...