I’ve written before about avoiding time on our own, just the girls and I. Given the choice I’ll want an activity/play date/trip to anchor the day. I’m not sure where that comes from. Because every time we’re home alone, so long as we spend time together, quietly remarkable things seem to happen.
This morning it was play dough. We emptied the pots, shapes, cutters, rollers onto the table. We were instantly absorbed. All of us.
H spent a lot of time squishing dough into shapes and making them all go ‘woof’.
Ro has spent the last few days counting EVERYTHING. So she started cutting up dough into blueberries and counting in groups of five, up to thirty. Then she started shaping letters to make words: “How do you spell ‘tickle’?”.
I got my 80’s vibe on and re-lived my fimo days, making roses, then horses to join H’s dogs.
None of this seems particularly noteworthy. But the beauty of all being sat round the table, in harmony, doing our own thing as equals, sharing tools, showing each other when we’d made something we were particularly excited about. Enjoying each other’s company.
It was a magical hour. And not that it needs saying, but all that learning too, without a single thing being forced. Just giving time and attention to each other.
And when I was making our lunch, they both told me not to look, and made me a very special birthday cake (note the blueberries!).