These tiny feet belong to a little girl going through the “terrible twos,” or so I’ve been told.
Before 8:00 a.m. this morning, my daughter spilled my coffee, her cereal, and planted herself on the floor of the shower, yelling “No, Mommy” when I opened the door. In turn, I planted myself outside of the door with a fresh cup of coffee and just watched her play. I texted a friend and she told me just to sit and take in how cute it all was. So I sat and I did just that.
By 12:00 noon, she dumped a bowl of crackers, smeared peanut butter all over my couch, and climbed on the counter and pulled over a vase of flowers she had helped me cut in the garden. She wanted to help arrange them and said “I help, Mommy.” So, we arranged the flowers together and she was very proud. And I smiled and kissed her strawberry blonde head.Continue Reading
He’s really too big for this car cart and I can’t lift him anymore into it, but he climbed into it today to sit happily next to his sister. He did it for her and she squealed in delight, the way he once did. And as I pushed them around the store, I had to wonder how many more times he’ll ride in this cart at all.
For years, he’s begged to ride in these car carts at the home improvement stores or at the grocery store. Mostly, I’ve given in, but other times, in an effort to dodge germs or to navigate quickly or easily down an aisle, I have secretly hoped he wouldn’t remember to ask or spot one in the entry of the store.
For years, I’ve lifted him in if it was a high car, helped him duck his head in the hatchback cars, or buckled the seatbelt around his chubby waist. He’s made “vroom, vroom” noises as we’ve navigated stores for supplies for home renovations or ingredients for hungry bellies. I’ve dodged end caps and displays, run into other carts or walls, all in the pursuit of this small joy for him; a car cart has the power to turn a child’s dreaded shopping experience into the adventure of the day. Continue Reading
Thank you, dear teacher.
After months of cold days, suddenly, it’s warm out and when I picked up my son from school yesterday, his blonde temples glistened under the sweat that was forming on his brow. It’s always startling to me, really—those temples that are still so very white blonde, only revealed from a short summer cut—since the rest of his head is darkening now that he’s getting older. Where did all that blonde hair go?
You were at the door like you always are, morning and afternoon, with the line of students behind you, waiting for parents to fetch them. It’s always a picture I look forward to seeing—the happy kids, children I’ve come to know, at the end of the day—and my son often stops to hug you before running to hug me. That’s the way it is now, sometimes. You’re the first to get the hug before he skips down the walk to throw his ever-growing arms around my waist. How did his arms get so long?
A year has ended; hair has gotten darker; arms have gotten longer, as they’ve reached for the sky. We parents have watched it all happen right before our very eyes, marveling at how fast time passes. As a chapter closes for them and for you, I want to thank you on behalf of all parents.Continue Reading