Baby sparkles {or Gwennan's compositions}

We're on the downhill side of a challenging few weeks. My grandmother encouraged me to think of every difficult time as a stage and the pleasant times as 'normal.' Bearing that in mind, we are returning to normal after wandering through a bad stage.

I can tell we're normalizing - big one is bouncing into rooms rather than tramping, and she has resumed composing. When she's angry and belligerent, the songs stop. But when her heart is happy, she flits around making up marvelous ditties.

Sunday she sat at the piano, banging out her magnum opus, 'Baby Sparkles.' The name is a mystery to me, but she plays it any time she's in a good mood. Baby Sparkles is an ongoing work with new verses every couple weeks.

This verse started with several repeats of 'Thank you God,' followed by 'Praise you Lord,' which then unraveled into a drawn out ballad about bathing in tomato juice after encountering a skunk named Flower. One of those moments when you look over your shoulder and think, 'how in the world did we arrive here?'

Last night she composed a song just for me, inspired by my decline to give her a third cookie. She replied, 'I don't like your tone. I hate your tone.' {we're not totally out of the dark woods}

To which I said, 'Hate is too strong a word. Can you re-phrase?'

To which she wrote this little number:

'Tone, tone, I like tones,
But I don't like yours.
Turn it around and find something good.'

I was rolling.

A few weeks ago, she was headed toward black and scream-o. I'm grateful to see my goofy girl resurfacing.