We sat out on the deck of Hank's mom's house the other night, listening to Daisy plan the activities she wished to enjoy the following day, which just happened to be her birthday. She rifled off this list while twirling around in the nighttime air, visibly enjoying the feel of the movement.
"First, we'll make pancakes and have a pancake breakfast with lots of maple syrup!"
(presumably this is the main reason we came to Vermont to celebrate her birthday)
"Then, we'll go fishing. Then, after that, we'll have lunch and we'll eat the fish I caught. Then, we'll open my presents, and then we'll PLAY with my presents! And then..."
I stopped her here.
"Play with your presents?" I asked. "What makes you think that you'll get some presents that you can play with? What if you just get a lump of coal?"
She stopped and stared at me defiantly. "Then we'll make a fire!" she exclaimed, continuing the twirling and planning that happily occupied her every molecule.
Not even my orneriness could spoil her mood this time.