When my babies were little, they loved Where The Wild Things Are. On rainy days like today, we’d sometimes turn the living room into a forest, with topsy-turvy chairs and blankets to hide beneath, and stage our own Wild Rumpus. Max was baaaad, they said, and delighted in his misbehavior, and in the fact that when he came home, some one loved him enough to have a dinner waiting that was still hot. And included cake.
Rest in peace on this rainy Tuesday, Mr. Maurice Sendak. And I hope, when you get where you are going, there is a joyous wild rumpus, and that someone has remembered the cake.