Well, the boy and I took the next big step in our relationship
and committed to join the last decade, and we get iPhones. I know, good people of the techno-webs, I can’t
believe with our fast-paced track record of committing to all things up and
coming that we only waited 10 years go fall into one of these smart phone
situations. It’s still kind of a shiny
and weird, unfamiliar thing in my hand, but it was helpful that one time I took
it grocery shopping. So there’s
that.
(Imagine this…a portable, hand-held device with these crazy
little application thing-a-ma-jigs that let you do things like remember your
grocery list. On demand.)
But piffle...who wants to hear about my gold, glittery case
that I found on clearance. That makes
for super exciting dullsville reading.
Instead, I have a story about my favorite 5-year old.
One day, the little squirt wasn’t in the pick-up line where
she was supposed to be, but we quickly found her on her bus ready to go. She had a sub in her class that day who
accidentally got her transportation situation mixed-up. The principal found her and brought her over
to my car, but she was just holding it
all in.
The next day, I did need her to ride the bus home. Her teacher was double checking to make sure
that my little bit was getting on the bus but missed her in the organized chaos
that is a hundred kids getting on buses.
She called in back-up (the principal – a really great guy), who got on
the bus to personally ensure that my child was where she needed to be. He called her name and my child, my little
Spunky McGee who was at the back of the bus, stood up in the aisle, put her
little fists on her little hips and loudly stated “My mommy TOLD ME I’m
supposed to be on the bus today!” He
smirked (I’m sure), replied “Okay!” and reported that all was well to the
chiclet’s teacher.
My kid. My second
born. My little mini me. She’s got some sort of spiff about her that
already defies my logic.
This will be one of the pinnacle moments of my parenting
life to hear my child first stand up and declare herself present and aware. I have no
doubt that this will be one of those moments I repeat to her again and
again when I’m old and shriveled-y.
And on that note, I will share that I’m full-on developing
wrinkles. I may not have grey hairs yet,
but ye olde face isn’t as young and smooth(ish) as it once was of yore. I think the good remembering things like a plucky
daughter are bunching up and making me smile more. It’s hard not to smile.
