Sun comes up, it’s Saturday morning, and the gray sky suggests that we won’t be doing much more than sitting at home — as if gray skies mean such a thing. Just because we’re rained in doesn’t mean that we can’t find work to do. Two kids, a house, one parent a teacher — there’s always something to do, something to fix, something to begin, something to complete.

I make the coffee and think of a song, an album I hadn’t listened to in ages. Cowboy Junkies. Somehow the perfect group for this morning. Calm, somewhat monotonous, almost boring in the perfect way something could be boring.

The kids and I get ready to go out shopping — a quick trip that serves two purposes. We get the things we need, like sundried tomatoes for the coming week’s salads, and we leave K alone in the house to clean.

“I like it. It’s calming, almost a meditation.”

Must be a Polish thing.

We arrive home, entertain the kids, force some Polish down L’s gullet — those Polish lessons are getting harder and harder, K swears — and eat some lunch, and then the sun comes out. Followed by me. I have ten cubic yards of dirt to compact at the end of the driveway to prepare our latest blueberry patch. And a yard to mow. And a million other things that I can’t quite get to. The Girl goes to a friend’s house to play, then brings him back to play some more. K brings the fed and napped Boy outside while she cleans the van we’ll soon be selling — hopefully — and suddenly it’s evening. I stand at the grill, turn the chicken, turn the corn, and watch the sun on buds in the tree tops turn golden as Nana and Papa entertain the kids and vice versa.

Eight fifteen. “What do you say I go upstairs and draw the bath?” I whisper in K’s ear as she finishes up dinner dishes.

“Sounds good.”

And tonight, all dive in.

All. Including our brave, curious, playful kitten.

Much to everyone’s delight.

Soon enough, kids are out, and I’m making the Boy’s bottle, then playing guitar for him as he drifts off to sleep. I sit on the bed, then lie on the bed, suddenly to be awakened.

“Who fell asleep first?” K laughs.

Hard to tell.

“Movie?”

“Are you kidding?”

Not really, but I know that there’s not much point even starting it. She’ll fall asleep within the first half hour, and by then, I might be interested enough not to want to stop.

“You’re probably right,” I say.

“Coming to bed?”

“No, I’ve got one more thing to do.”