It started last weekend. I was doing the Wal-mart run with the girls, and inevitably the 'Little One' needs to use the facilities. As I am waiting for her. I watch an older lady roll her mother over to the sink and so very tenderly help her wash her hands. There is so much love in her every movement. I just sighed and thought to myself that those frail hands at one time were strong and washed her daughter's hands. As they rolled out the Mother waved and smiled at me.
Then yesterday happened.
My kidlets and I were frantically working on getting our Thanksgiving learning done.
(did I say frantic...I meant...nah, it was...how you say...hmmm...I feel a new word comin' on!)
When even they start walking the halls with a dazed look in their eyes and not even seeing the stream of kiddos 3 times their size coming down the stairs, and cutting them off going up the stairs, and not even hearing their teacher croak,
"For Heaven's sake what are you doing??You're cutting off Mr. H's whole class! Go up the other way!" You know it's time for a break!
(Did I mention that they did this 2 times yesterday...the second time the kids were bigger...they don't care...nothin' a-scares 'em!)
And thank goodness our office staff has a sense of humor, because they didn't film me and post it on You-tube!
(Or did they??I just love giving the lovely Keepers of the Castle a good giggle! I live for it. They work hard!)
As I was saying, during this frantasmic day,
(see, told 'ya I had one comin'!)
I said to myself,"Wouldn't it be cool to paint the kiddos hands brown and let them make the Mayflower out of their handprint?"
(See. I was even having conversations with myself.)
So what do I do. I get the blue construction paper out and the brown paint and
(Whew! That was a loooong sentence!)
As I am painting their hands, I look at their little faces and listen to their giggles. Then this thought stops me in my tracks. 'Their little hands are so small. Their giggles are so infectious.' I instantly relax.
Then this morning, I wake up. I'm tired. My Great White Hunter (hubby) had to leave early to teach a class. I
whine say,"Girls, I don't want to make breakfast." Then my 'Big Girl' looks at me and says,"I'll make breakfast. I can make eggs." I hesitate. She can't possibly be able to make breakfast for me. She's too little. She'll burn herself. She'll make a mess. She'll...she'll...she'll! The 'Little One', on the other hand, is already pouring herself cereal.
(the child will never starve)
I pour my coffee, and she's still looking at me. "Okay, just call me if you need help."
From the living room I hear the sounds of cooking happening. Pans clanking. Eggs cracking. "How high do I put the heat." I rush in. She needs me. Only for a second. She shooos me away. I smell something yummy. Then I hear the toaster pop. Scrape, scrape, scrape.Then, silence. "Here Mom!"
I had to take a picture. It was a milestone. Those little hands made me breakfast! (sniff, sniff...tear...sniff)
some lyrics by John Mayer that illustrate exactly what I was thinking
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters too
So, whattaya waiting for? Go take that little hand in yours and love on that kiddo. If that little hand isn't so little anymore, I will quote my friend Sara.
You're never too old to sit on your mama's (or daddy's) lap!