To Give Your Brain Credit

"It was the biggest cereal-eating contest of the year in Skiddlyville.  The whole town gathered to the square, where glass bowls had been placed along tables covered in white tablecloths.  The sunlight shone through the bowls and reflected on the tablecloths and sidewalks, covering the town in vibrant lights.  But there was a problem.  No one had noticed, but they soon would, that resting on each of the tables was cereal, beautiful bowls and spoons, and no milk.  No rich, creamy milk, milked from the town cows.  And where there was no milk, there was to be no cereal-eating contest."

by Michael Donovan, found on flickr

M. Flower Farm

The M. Flower Farm is out behind a brown house set back from the street.  The brown house has a veranda and is surrounded by carefully cared-for plants.  A dirt driveway extends from the road, behind the house, and back to the road, dividing the house from a barn full of pots and planting supplies.

During my slightly successful run (which I call slightly successful because it was interrupted by a 7-minute walk and a visit to a flower shop), I passed by the M. Flower Farm.  I was following a long road stretching past my sister and brother-in-law's house until my fifteen minutes were up, and then heading back along the same road.

Day 4

A. asked me today what my favorite part of daycare was.  I must say, when I talk about daycare or sing the songs that are stuck in my head, all about popcorn, ice cream cones, pink dinosaurs, I feel like I'm one of the daycare kids.  I sit "criss-cross apple sauce" during singing time, trying to keep up with Ms. S.'s movements, trying to sing along with the songs, dancing quite enthusiastically.  And I'm delighted with myself.  Being a four-year old is so fun in so many ways.