“Horses are sad,” Jiggy said. He peered over the edge of the tub at a horse he’d tossed down to the tile.
Since I gave him three small plastic horses at bath time almost 2 weeks ago, Mama, Papa and Jiggy horse have had many falls and many ambulance rides. Tonight, I am happy to hear “Horses are NOT sad. Horses are playing.”

Jiggy likes to plays with a tiny toy animal each morning. Elephant is hurt. He lays Elephant in the back of an 8 inch wooden flat-bed style truck. She is elevated carefully on a dais of colorful wooden blocks. “She goes to hospital!”

At the hospital she is fixed. He has removed the doors from Jake’s old Playmobil food truck. He places one white door beneath her spine and another on top of her. “She is not hurt!” he advises and drives her back home, sirens blaring. He resists going to the crèche until I advise him that I will watch over Elephant and make sure she is not hurt. A small Playmobil boy rides beside her.

As auntie-nanny I enjoy Jiggy’s routine. My sister has structured it beautifully and peacefully. After crèche, we walk downhill slowly. He is very observant. Every puddle must be stomped. Every raindrop tasted. Errant leaves must be tucked into bushes, sticks stashed (for later retrieval). He stops to listen for birdsong, cars, the sound of running water. He loves the Lavior, the wash house, a beautiful arched stone structure over a wide trough of water where laundry was washed for perhaps hundreds of years. Jiggy is the only customer today. His leaves are washed and waved away. A few feet farther down the road he watches them pass through the sewer. “Au revoir!”

Outside of Jiggy’s routine, helping with meals and laundry there’s not much else I can accomplish. When Jiggy is at the crèche I go to my yoga mat.  My sister and I have long chats and cook and organize things. We have a petit ballade, meandering through the village. Late at night or early in the morning  In snatches, I soak up  Sons and Lovers, savoring D.H. Lawrence's language, at once lush and plain, his imagery, so detailed and intimate like this home... a boy peeks around corners, listens intently in in small stone house, cozy and very contained, where sound echoes and windows steam. Then, shutters open, cool air rushes in and the day begins.