Rainbow

Here is Madeleine from the week-end. She tells my Grandma Silver "would like this feather" and I promise to mail it for her (Silver: I think it has now gone missing)

Madeleine reads me a story about a bunch of kids who play with a "rainbow machine" while the "rainbow makers" having lunch at the local caf. Accordingly, a rainbow turned into various geometric shapes, like a zig-zag, before the whole thing goes pair-shaped and the kids turn the sky red. The adults return to save the day, first bleaching the sky then coloring it blue (the bleaching bit is like most days in the UK BTW). Madeleine's reading comes along fine while I know it is hard work : she would rather play imagination with her ever growing family of "buddies" (stuffed animals). This morning I leave her a bed-side note stating: "good job with your words."

Madeleine: "How are rainbows made Dad?"
Me: "Rainbows happen when sunshine reflects from the rain droplets."
Madeleine: "Thanks Dad, but I don't really care now."