Today, as I dashed to the treadmill, I caught sight of my children. And you know, the kids are alright. I was beginning my traditional late-winter spiral into doubt and panic. For a while at least, it’s halted.
Through the doorway to the living room: Tias balancing on the Bosu while knitting, watching Arthur.
Arthur has been on his Netflix playlist as often as we’ll let him lately. It’s perfect timing, as he’s sorting through a number of issues about growing up, his place in the world, morality, and other big questions. Arthur deals with a lot of ideas that are swirling around Tias just now.
In the kitchen: Sandra, baking scones because I’d asked her to.
Helpful, dependable, deep-thinking Sandra. I’d been craving scones for a week, ever since this photo came up in my Flickr friends’ photos. Warm cranberry and orange scones were being baked while I ran; what a delightful thought: keep running and lunch will be warm and golden.
You know, when I look at them as people and not as Grade 6 or Grade 8, they’re wonderful. They’re complicated. They’re growing up.
They’re alright. We’re alright.