We had dinner together tonight, just the two of us. And she chattered happily about school and pickle ball, the upcoming science fair, and swimming the 100 meter butterfly. She told me about Dr. Seuss day and the current mystery novel she’s reading, grinning to reveal a mouth full of metal strategically placed to, in time, perfect her beautiful smile.
When did she start getting acne, and breasts, and ...tall? How can this child who was, I’m quite sure, born just a year or two ago, talk to me about Broadway, and Beethoven and boys? Someone once asked me which childhood age was my favorite…when did I like my kids best? I thought about it and realized I love them all.
I love the amazing, indescribable look of pure trust in my baby’s eyes as our gazes lock while she nurses…the belly laugh of a toddler, those tiny fingers wrapped around just one of mine…the first-day-of-school jitters (mine, not hers) as she walks away from the safe nest we’ve created for her, into a big unknown world awash in possibility…birthday parties and piñatas…frightful sounds honking out of the next room as she learns to play sax and wonders, 3 months into it, if she’s ready for a jazz band…that smart-aleck look the day she realizes she’s as tall as…taller than, mom…her face beaming with pride at the awards ceremony…my baby, in cap and gown, marching across the stage…going off to college in the big city into a bigger unknown world awash in even great possibility …making her own way…amazing.
Where are you going, my little one, little one? Where are you going, my baby, my own? Turn around and you’re two; turn around and you’re four. Turn around and you’re a young girl going out of the door.
Anonymous said…
momma mullins can commiserate. sang the same song to my baby girl before leaving the hospital. scary huh! a few more years, she'll be in college. will she still need socks? great blog! when's the wedding? we'll both be crying!
I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing every day. Lately, I've been working on character sketches. Some of those will find their way here, in the form of individual comments to this post.
Comments
When did she start getting acne, and breasts, and ...tall? How can this child who was, I’m quite sure, born just a year or two ago, talk to me about Broadway, and Beethoven and boys?
Someone once asked me which childhood age was my favorite…when did I like my kids best? I thought about it and realized I love them all.
I love the amazing, indescribable look of pure trust in my baby’s eyes as our gazes lock while she nurses…the belly laugh of a toddler, those tiny fingers wrapped around just one of mine…the first-day-of-school jitters (mine, not hers) as she walks away from the safe nest we’ve created for her, into a big unknown world awash in possibility…birthday parties and piñatas…frightful sounds honking out of the next room as she learns to play sax and wonders, 3 months into it, if she’s ready for a jazz band…that smart-aleck look the day she realizes she’s as tall as…taller than, mom…her face beaming with pride at the awards ceremony…my baby, in cap and gown, marching across the stage…going off to college in the big city into a bigger unknown world awash in even great possibility …making her own way…amazing.
Where are you going, my little one, little one?
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you’re two; turn around and you’re four.
Turn around and you’re a young girl going out of the door.