Tis the season

So the holidays approach - time to throw all semblance of the schedule to the wind and begin experimenting with 'how flexible' the girl is.

So tonight I decided to drive around for an hour after daycare in some pretty snotty traffic.
Flexibility rating for the girl: excellent.
The level of whining: remarkably low in face of well planned in flight snacks easily and consistently delivered thanks to the lack of forward motion.

Destination was dinner at grandmother's. Grandmother intransigent about the fussiness of the child-eater still presents fancy dinner food and child destroys mountain of rice pilaf with a fork -- and eats nothing.
Flexibility rating: poor but predictable.
Parental recovery with applesauce, cookie, and bread.

The Ministry folks will be onto us now. Apparently MoWo needed to decompress so I drove home with the little one. A quaint feature of our city is that the 'burb in which the in-laws reside is connected to the city by a 4-lane tunnel. In the morning three lanes are open, and then, later, one lane, and urban planning, and vegetable madness... who cares. Traffic was rather dense and I assumed the princess of applesauce would get bored, upset, vocal. I would respond by becoming, in turn, pleading, incoherent, incontinent.

As it was we chatted about the dome light, hats, and 'Barry' (the cross-species-dressing bear-rabbit). We listened to the hockey game on the radio. Baby e fell asleep and I listened to her breathe (in between plays of course- go 'nucks!) and in any event the beauty of the moment is obscured by language, or the banality of my description. Version 2: My baby slept as we rode home. My heart smiled. Version 3: baby baby baby don't let the social workers get their wayyyy. P-man out.