Spring Blossoms

She is completely engrossed in watching the trains run and talk, fall in the ditch and be pulled out, while commenting "Oh no! Broken!" and calling them by their names: "Percy", "Edward", "Henry" and "Dames".

Meanwhile Ariella returns all dressed up, including color-coordinated accessories, ready for school.

"What a lovely innocent joy it is to spoil your grandchildren," I say to myself, regretting that I never knew my grandparents who would have indulged me just as much. I feel reenergized for the day.

After mother and daughter leave for school, I go back to the kitchen, fill the dishwasher and start preparing a new dish, a "surprise" for dinner. Before peeling the potatoes and the veggies, I step into the living room to check on the Bean, as her comments hit my ears at a much slower pace now. She is out of the big chair, standing very still between the sofa and the coffee table, no longer watching her video.

"Hi little Bean!" I greet her and as I take a whiff around, I immediately understand the reason for her becoming so quiet.

"You need a dipy change, sweetie pie. Come with Namami," I urge her, trying to reach for the little hand.

She looks at me very crossly, frowning, her feelings clearly hurt by my discovery. She points her little finger at me and angrily says in a very loud voice:

"You go! You go kitchen!"

I can hardly hold back my laughter as I scoop up the little stinker in my arms and carry her to her room for a badly needed fresh diaper. She resists first, but very quickly gives in and by the end of the procedure she is all smiles again.

"Thanks," the little voice chirps when I stand her up on the floor.

By the time her mama brings home Ariella from school, I am finished with cooking dinner, the Bean is up from her midday nap and we are ready for big sisty's ice rink practice.

Ariella has lessons twice a week and practices conscientiously on her own as well. My heart is melting while watching that miniature ice skater, dressed in the prettiest short navy-blue velvet skating dress and pink ballet sweater, white gloves and skates. Her golden honey hair is now tied in one thick braid and the symmetry of her profile with that small upturned nose is simply charming. She is gliding like a dream, working on candy cane spins, front and back cross overs and other wonders for which her private couch gives her several colored star stickers. She proudly shares with us all those awards at the end of practice and doesn't forget to tickle the little Bean into a delightful laughter with her cold fingers.

Driving home, we talk about the weekend program, a special afternoon tea at a fancy local hotel. For the rest of the ride, Ariella's thoughts seem to focus on what she should wear for the event.

"I'd like to wear my pink dress, Mama. Is that a good idea?"

"A very good idea, Ariella," her mother reassures her.

"But it itches, Mama," she adds quickly.

"I'll have to buy her a slip," her mother thinks aloud.

"What's a slip, Mama?" Ariella asks.

While she receives the details, I suddenly see a little girl admiring, touching shimmering colorful satin slips folded carefully in her mother's lingerie drawer. She also thinks at length how to coordinate her outfits, how to choose the right colors... Now, half a century later, another little girl is going through the same process.

"How different it is with little girls", I think.