A little girl at Christmas

There's something about little girls.  

This one has black hair, and eyes with built-in eyeliner. Her hair is longer than when I last saw her, and it looks good.

She's wearing a new coat.  Black and a bit puffy.  She's like a fashion ad in Vogue.

This place is a sort of Christmas house in the woods.  Thousands of Xmas lights all through the forest, and a tea room and play room and music room in the house.  They have tea and coffee and scones and sweets.  The little girl sits in a highchair and eats and eats.  Her Mom always seems to travel with food for her.  Watermelon and cheese, crackers and raisins.  This Mom can talk to three people at once, including the little girl, and still keep her happy with these little niblets of food.  "Watermelon is her favorite - oh - and strawberries - she always eats them until they're pretty well gone".

Her Dad and Mom give her a lot of words, too.  She never gets tired of this.  She repeats every one of the words, and is very happy doing this.  She needs constant diversions -  things to look at and talk about and run into and fall out of. 

There's music coming from down the hall.  Her Mom lifts her up and looks for the music makers.  We get a seat  right in the front row.  A small group of players doing Christmas folk tunes from long ago.  recorder types of horns, and small stringed contraptions, and a singer.  They're wearing funny looking hats.  And suddenly, the little girl becomes still. Is it because we're so close?  She doesn't look around a lot - perhaps it's the sounds of the horns and this tiny violin - she sits quietly.  For 20 whole minutes, she's still. 

"You're kidding", says her Dad when we return.