Snow Day and Seven

We're having a snow day, which is funny, because there's no snow. Our snow day looks like this:

Except you can't really see how blue the sky is in this picture. But please, notice the green grass.

It's fine with me, though, because it's given me some extra time with my Small One. You'd think that after the crazy debacle of sick days that was December, and a winter break that's lasted from before Christmas all the way to Epiphany, I'd be tired of hanging out with her, but no, I hardly ever get tired of that. She's a few of my favorite things, rolled into one little person, funny, smart, and engaging.

We played hide and seek today. There aren't a lot of great places for a grown-up to hide in our house, especially when Small insists on counting so FAST, so I was deeply gratified when I found one that almost stumped her. She ran past my hiding spot in the shower many times, and even enlisted my dogs in the search -"Got the scent, boys? Go find her!" My dogs, in case you're wondering, are terrible trackers. They're more slobbery snugglers than detective dogs, as was evident as they spent 10 minutes running back and forth 5 feet from where I was sitting, following Small. To be fair, when I asked her what she let them smell to get the scent, she said "Me! Because I smell like you! Because we're both humans."

She makes me laugh all day, with her view of the world. She also makes me take deep breaths, because she's seven. Seven is such a strange age, straddling big kid and baby, still young enough to want to sleep in our room after a nightmare, but old enough to get highly offended if anyone refers to her as "little". She wants to help, wants to do everything herself, and in order for her to succeed, I really have to be at the top of my game. All the time. Patiently. I have to remind myself that it's really important for her to have the opportunity to set things right after she spills something, even though I know I could cut out the middle-man and just clean it up myself, which I'll do anyway, after she does it and when she's not looking.

The Man, who has always been incredibly patient with her, is not having the best time with this right now, and it's causing conflict and tears. It makes me sorry for them, and I try to help without interfering, because he's not around her as much as I am, and I don't think he quite "gets" it. That's her complaint, all the time, by the way. "Daddy doesn't get it!" "You just don't GET it, Dad!". It makes me giggle, though not in front of her. To her I say, "No, ma'am, you do not speak to your father that way." But she's right, he doesn't.

It's ok, he will. And I will. And by the time we master 7, she'll be 8.