Last night I went into Cole’s bedroom for the usual Big Hug and Big Kiss and One More Big Hug and One More Big Kiss, and Mommy, mommy, mommy, and One More Time, then a sweet little sigh. Last night, during the final hug cycle, he added “Oh Mommy, you So (pause) Best (pause) My (pause) Friend.” Never has acceptance felt better, never. Not even in high school, when that is ALL that matters.
In elementary school news this week, Riley came home and told me about a game they’ve made up for recess. It’s a cross between Magic Treehouse and How to Train Your Dragon 2. (Note: Not How to Train Your Dragon, but How to Train Your Dragon 2.) They were all assigned roles by the boy who’d designed the game. He chose Hiccup, and assigned her as Astrid. She hadn’t seen the movie, and therefore does not know how awe inspiring little Astrid really is, to little girls AND boys. I learned this week she also doesn’t know what it might mean to be assigned, by Hiccup, the role of Astrid. I did not tell her. (Look it up, you’ll smile for her.) These things are not a big deal yet, but like the earliest crocus, things are pushing through the snow.
The first month at her new school, she told me “Mom, boys and girls don’t seem accustomed to one another’s ways here. They act weird around each other.” This week she shared with me, with hands in the air, about a “breakup” between two of her little peers – “Mom, so and so and so and so broke up, and I’m like, how does that even happen?!? You just stop being friends? Weird.”
So, if these things are off her radar, what IS going on in my daughter’s vast and malleable mind? I’m glad to share. When I woke her up yesterday morning, to start the tick tock toward school’s start, she opened her eyes, looked at me and said, “Mom, those guys who play the chimney sweeps in Mary Poppins must be very talented.”
I knew I loved children, always. I knew I’d love being a mom. I did not anticipate how much sweetness would flow. It’s beautiful, and it’s fleeting, and big things are just around the corner.
