While the claimed science behind the executive's planned lockdown exit is not always clear, the politics prompting it are more revealing.
The rows between Sinn Féin and the DUP, which marked the beginning of the lockdown, have been replaced by a cosmetic truce, as evidenced by the two parties' harmonious exit plan (not so much a timetable, more a timeless table.)
Some may interpret this as a new political maturity. A more accurate analysis might be that it reflects a change of Sinn Féin strategy to make the assembly be seen to work. Welcome to the fairytale of New Stormont.
So what prompted SF's conversion on the road to the executive, what difference will it make and how long will it last?
Initially it appeared that SF was using the pandemic to destabilise the assembly. The trouble began when Arlene Foster and Michelle O'Neill clashed over school closures.
O'Neill advocated Dublin's policy, but Foster said Stormont should act only on scientific information. The DUP won (even though many in the DUP reject the validity of science.)
SF then launched an unjustified attack on health minister, Robin Swann, accusing him of failing to obtain sufficient protective equipment. SF had hoped to piggyback on Dublin's purchase of Chinese equipment, but it never materialised, making them look unnecessarily aggressive.
When Swann announced British army help for distributing medical equipment, Michelle O'Neill objected. But later she said she would not "stand in the way" of the army. Once again, Sinn Féin had started a row and lost.
So they started another row - over the re-opening of cemeteries. The DUP supported their opening. But Sinn Féin fought to keep them closed, starting a secondary row with the Catholic Church, which also wanted them opened.
A few days later, Mary Lou McDonald said the party would support re-opening cemeteries. Another row, another defeat.
Now the rows have been replaced with (a bit too much) sweetness and light. So where and why did it all go right?
Did SF realise that a pandemic is no place for politics, or were they tired losing rows? Maybe they realised the electorate would punish their failure to tackle the coronavirus?
Perhaps they were simply uniting with the DUP against Robin Swann, as the executive's fall guy? He accurately claimed that the executive had let the NHS down over many years. SF blamed Tory austerity, but every agreement they made with Britain (including January's) contained no mention of money.
The only publicly available explanation for SF's new departure (and perhaps the most reliable) is Leo Varadkar's attack on their northern performance in government. He criticised what he said was their use of food parcels for political publicity.
To deny him further opportunities for criticising them in the Dáil, perhaps SF embraced Stormont, assisted by the DUP's reluctance to support Boris Johnson's failed coronavirus policy. Or maybe SF's southern leadership just brought the north into line.
Whatever the explanation, SF has taken a new direction. This week it sidestepped the Catholic Church's call for the suspension of academic selection. It was a heaven sent opportunity (if you know what I mean) to maintain their attack on selection. But although their education spokesperson supported the Church, Michelle O'Neill steered clear.
However, there are more serious upcoming challenges in making Stormont work.
When and how will they re-open schools? Both parties claim they will act on the best scientific advice, but how will they agree on what is best among conflicting scientific views? Will they tell us which advice they rejected as second best, or will they just settle for political agreement?
More seriously, how will they maintain unity on Brexit? Both parties were restrained this week on Britain's proposed new customs arrangements with the north, but will Brexit drive apart what coronavirus (and Leo Varadkar) have joined together? That depends on how far SF intends to take its new strategy.
But for now, in the best fairytale tradition, the two parties are living happily ever after - in public at least.
