Saturday Morning

I followed them for thirty minutes.  Anika smushed pink spaghetti through the play-dough extruder.  Ian watched with amazement.  He had to try.  And of course his little hands had little success.

He couldn't add to the orange bowl filled with pink spaghetti.

So he wandered off to play with the wet dog on the other side of the glass slider-door.  Anika read books in great-grandma's old chair.  Ian soon found her, his best of friends.  The two of them climbed up together and read book after book.  A timeless and perfect morning.

my angel