The little angel looked so warm and pink in bed this morning. I crawled in with her, made one of the stuffed dogs she won at the kid casino over the break lick her face. She moaned.

"Is it daytime or nighttime?"

I laughed. I'm the one in this family who usually is the worst about getting out of bed. The fact that she honestly didn't know if it was day or night made me feel better about my own reservations about getting out of bed this morning. 

We got going. She had breakfast. She got dressed. Like walking through water. Christmas break always feels like sailing around the Cape of Good Hope to me -- it's a difficult passage with none of my familiar structure, in which things stand still and I wait to see if we'll start moving forward again. I have enjoyed this time with my family, but I'm also restless. I hate being stuck indoors, and even with the better-than-usual weather, days and days off make for a lot of restless indoor time, searching for things to do that will interest both seven-year-olds and thirty-seven-year-olds. I started to long for some time alone.

I was pretty excited about school today. I'm back at work and desperately needing to feel productive.

"Man, the bus is really late today," I said, as the minutes ticked by with her backpack packed and ready and her coat on.

"Really, really late."

I pulled up the school website.

Teacher professional development day.

She laughed and went back over to the television.

We seem to be stuck on a sandbar. Try again tomorrow.