Marie Alice Writes & Reads

I Wish I could have sent the hubby-to-be to deal with the puppy at 5am this morning.

Buuuut, he has already done his part of dealing with the furry baby beast an hour ago.

« Hey, never mind that, mama writer, here’s your chance to sit down in the quiet of the early morning and escape in one of those stories of yours… or even study, maybe », said my dreamy self.

That was a happy optimistic tough indeed.

Puppy had another plan: play.

That we did for a bit. But, was it enough for puppy? Of course not.

Therefore, the furry beast went into mischievous mode. Which makes noise. Which awoken my wonderful, amazing, kiddo.

By then, it was almost 6 am and the only thing I was able to do is open Word!!

Oh well… I better hug the little frustration away and get on with the day.

Less word, more family time for this mama writer. I’m lucky. So grateful and lucky.

Wishing you all the good words dear fellow writers !

Every day, pandemic times excluded, I took the kiddo to a daycare.

First time I went there, I stood in the parking lot for a bit.

The place looked a bit shabby, the tiny courtyard needed some love.

And I was to leave my kiddo in the hands of very kind, professional strangers.

Kiddo cried every morning for a month. Every afternoon after snack time, kiddo would wait by the door until I came.

And then.

Then, kiddo would happily leave my arms to go play with the others kids. Daycare teachers were kiddo’s friends. Everything they did was so excitting, every song they taught so funny !

Kiddo learned so much, grew up so much among this strange daycare family.

Four years later, on a warm June afternoon, the very kind, professional daycare teachers, by then part of our family as well, organized a little graduation ceremony for the 4-5 years old group.

Kiddo in the graduation gown and mortarboard (yep, the square hat has a name!) was simply breathtaking!

Yesterday morning, a city bus driver drove into a daycare facility in Laval, a big city on the North shore of the St Lawrence river, about an hour drive from where we live.

Two four or five years old kiddo’s will never have a silly little graduation on a warm June afternoon.

My heart is broken. All our hearts are broken.

No words for the stories this morning.

No words.