Slow mornings

Something that I have learnt in the past year or so is that a slow morning can be a glorious thing.  At Beetle’s kindy drop-off time, Billie immediately gravitated towards the painting easel, rolling up her sleeves and taking tiny baby steps while peeking back over her shoulder to see if the kindy teachers or I were watching.  “It’s okay, Billie” and she was off to work.

Beetle joined her at the easels and they painted together in relative tranquility for a good 20 minutes. Billie did three paintings, and Beetle worked so hard on her one that mat-time came along, so she had to finish it afterwards.

Billie and I rolled up to the shops, where I was planning on doing my yucky glucose screening test but instead took a phonecall from Mum and had an almond croissant with her instead (a much better deal!).  Caught up with Billie’s much-needed haircut, picked up our prescriptions, bought a ten-cent post-haircut lollipop, had a go on the strange little car ride outside the Four Square, and then wandered back to kindy.

It’s nice to not be in a hurry.  That season is coming soon, but for now we’re taking it slow when we can.