It was a day for counting your blessings, of hoisting two chortling children by their waists and threatening to toss them out the front door into the drumming rain.
A day to do quiet chores and listen to the wind pick up around the corners of the house, folding laundry to the tune of the weather outside.
A day for puzzles, for brushing doll hair, and good and lasting things like painting girl toenails and naming a plethora of rainbow-hued impossibly coiffed plastic ponies.
In the afternoon, there was time for learning the names of robots and bad guys and which thing transforms into another and the solid good weight of impossibly long boy legs pillowed into my lap.
A nice time for peeling potatoes and being sous chef for Bear's magical corn chowder and biscuits.
I wish that I could bottle these days, keep them safe for the inevitable times when harmony flees the house and we rub sore on each other, for the times when I stomp upstairs and take comfort in rubbing cat bellies, alone with a paperback novel for company.
It seems hard sometimes to take the good with the bad. Unfair.
I like the good so much better.
And today? Was a good day.