Making

Yesterday the grands stayed on after their dad fixed a leaky fitting under the kitchen sink.  (Thanks, Mike.  I am inexperienced at home repairs, had never heard of a compression fitting.)  They did their usual iPad and iPhone things, piano playing, chicken tender eating, a bit of arguing over Minecraft.  Aaron, soon to be ten, fixed my Netflix by fiddling with the connections.

And then, in a bit of magic, they decided to get out the art box and paint.  And to get out the play dough and make restaurant dishes, after taking orders for both food and paintings.

Magic because, as they grow into more sports and more time with friends and more enjoyment of solitary interests, these unstructured play times become more rare.  At a younger age for Aaron, it seems, because as his sister companion moves on to other things he often moves along with her.

And magic because time seemed to fly as they created, entering a different world, setting up on the back porch.

I had to wonder whether this would be the last time for "making" pizza and carrots and salad and cookies.  And, because this is a special restaurant, filling those orders for paintings, for music, even dancing.

Time flies in all kinds of ways.