a playdate at the park - happy shouts, small legs powering up ladders and shooting down slides. their mothers are oddly calmed by the rambunctiousness.
a silly lunchtime, with the grilled cheese of so many of our days. two kids, dissolving into giggles over carrot sticks in nostrils. their mom was genuinely amused.
a pre-nap storytime, with two small kids curled around their mom like parentheses, listening to the gentle cadences of AA Milne.
an hour of school with a proud student who felt he was getting it. who shyly - but handily - breezed through a math test.
it was a no-playdate day. the mom of the house wanted only to gather her small chicks around her, to have a quiet afternoon with them.
the rain started its thrumming on the sidewalk, and there were instant calls for raincoats and boots. a dam was built, the puddles were stomped, a broken downspout became an impromptu shower.
three wet Smalls trooped in, stripped off, and ran for the shower. The call of Can you all wash your hair, if you're in there??? followed them up the stairs. there was laughing and bossing and hollering, and then calls for cozy pants and warm socks.
the day quietly slipped into dusk, disguised by grey rain clouds. quiet spread to all levels of the house, and each child found their own small occupations.
baked apples for a special dessert, and real whipped cream which became a group effort. one splashing vanilla, another scooping sugar, with the big sister in charge of the KitchenAid.
Make no mistake: stillness is in every sort of day.