Yesterday�s funk continued unabated this morning. When I get in this frame of mind about the only thing that exorcises my demons is work. Unfortunately, since my husband had work to do this morning, I was on kind duty and couldn�t work, so poor AJ had to suffer through my gloom, and doom, which he did with great aplomb. We did puzzles, practiced letters, attempted bowling and made a solar system out of the bowling pins (when you take put the yellow one on its side and spin it around it looks like the sun), drew a map of AJ�s digestive system and created and demolished several small cities. By 10:00 our imaginations were spent and AJ and I jumped in the car to head to the �Butterfly House,� AJ�s name for the nature center at a park in an adjacent town. But when we arrived, the Butterfly House was closed. We stared dejectedly at the closed sign on the door for a few minutes before trudging through the mud and drizzle back to the car. I took AJ to toy store where I figured at least one of us would have some fun. We left with a rainbow-colored kite, some effervescence for a dull, gray day. Alas, there was no wind.

AJ ate and napped. I wrote furiously for an hour and 14 minutes until I heard his little feet on the stairs. AJ�s energetic morning sunshine had been replaced by surliness. Perfect. Now we were all grumpy. It was time to do something about the situation.

There comes a time every winter when you feel like you would rather gnaw off your own arm than spend another second in the house. We put AJ in the car and took him to the pet store to make faces at the fish and admire the elaborate contraptions to house hamsters. We went to Home Depot to run up and down the aisles and open and shut every refrigerator and washing machine (and pick up some items to repair the ceiling in my office, part of which came down a week or two ago when one of the cats managed to get up inside of it). We drove home. �Can�t we go somewhere else and play?� asked AJ. My husband and I looked at the clock and each other. It was almost dinner time. Time to go home. �No, but we can play outside in the yard when we get home.� �We could fly my kite and I could watch.�

It was still windless, but I slipped the kite out of its plastic wrapper and snapped the struts into place. We all admired it as I unfurled its long black and yellow tail. I gave it to AJ and showed him how to pitch it. Then I grabbed the string and began to run. For a few brief seconds the rainbow colors soared and glowed against the gray sky. Then they crashed into a tree. AJ ran to help me with the string. As we extracted the kite, I noticed something.

�AJ, come look!�
�What is it?�
�It�s the pussywillow tree. Look.�
�It�s fuzzy.�
�They�re so silver and soft. Just like Mrs. Stein [one of the cats].�
�Wow.�
�Do you know what that means?�
�What?�
�It�s almost spring.�
�Mommy, let�s fly the kite again.�

We tried again and again. Mostly the kite got dragged through the mud of our snow-soaked lawn. But AJ didn�t care. He ran and ran and laughed and laughed.

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