Two Perfect Moments on a Monday Morning
I
It starts with a bed-a-bye snuggle, sometime before the morning music …
somehow, there we all are.
Four abed, snuggled under, breathing.
Daddy’s the bravest. He rises before the rest.
Then mama feels guilty, smells coffee brewing, and slowly emerges from the nest.
Big boy bounces up, right up!
Mama and big boy go to his room to pull out clothes for today’s many adventures.
“But I’m not ready!” he complains.
(Mama doesn’t blame him. She’s not ready either.)
So they sit together on the green carpet. Perhaps a cuddle?
Arms enfold ten wiggly elbows, ten knocking knees.
“Either this lap used to be bigger, or you used to be smaller.”
(Giggle)
And there she is, just an arm’s length away,
Emily Mouse, doing her “evening” chores, having a before-bed drink
of water from the upside-down blue bottle.
Gently, Mama says, “Maybe Emily misses you,” thinking, it has been a good long while
since you held your mousie friend.
OK. He reaches for her, cups her gently in two astonishingly large hands
lined and crackled with dirt,
graced with broken nails
and calluses—
curious hands
that move a bit too fast.
White mouse whiskers, sniffing, twitching.
“Wow,” mama says. “We have had Emily for a whole year.”
“Yep.” White mouse moves over dingy T-shirt,
is corralled back into workaday hands.
To herself, Gently now … careful …
“How long do mice live?” Mama wonders cautiously.
“Two years, or a little more.”
Hmmm …
Emily’s fur is stroked, ears scratched by one nubby index finger.
Even. More. Gently …
“What do you think that means?”
…
Blue eyes flash, then seek refuge in the green carpet.
She will die someday. Sometime.
“Maybe soon.”
“Let’s give her lots of love until then, OK?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“And lots of petting. And kitchen scraps!”
“Yeah! I wonder if we gave her a whole sweet pepper, would she eat a hole and crawl inside it?”
“I don’t know. Let’s give her one and see.”
Eggs are ready. “Time for breakfast,” says the Daddy.
Littlest boy sleeps on …
…
II
Lucas and Grandma leave.
Existential dilemma faced and dressing for a rainy school day accomplished!
Phew!
Mama sips coffee
until …
“MAMA!”
Sleepy one emerges into a quiet house.
“My jammies are wet. I want a kiwi.”
Never before. “A kiwi? Really?”
“Yes.”
Well, then. Diaper change and then Mama goes looking …
Hallelujah! A kiwi. One.
“I have to peel the fuzzy brown skin off.”
“And then I eat it up.”
It vanishes before Mama’s eyes. Three gulps tops.
Then the cold eggs follow.
Mama sits by his side.
“I’m ready for some holding now,” he says with certain faith, and climbs over.
A small egg fills her lap.
“I’m a baby bird in my egg.”
Ah. “And I’m the nest?”
“Yes. And the Mama Bird.”
Pecking. Peck. Peck.
“I’m pecking!
“I’m hatching! Hatch!”
“Hello, Baby Bird! Welcome.”
“You’re my Mama Bird?!”
“Mmmm-hmm …”
“I hatch again!”
(Repeat)
“Are you ready to fly, baby bird?”
“Yes!”
“Let’s put on your red rain feathers.”
“Hurry, Mama Bird! Let’s fly!”
All the way to preschool.
May 11, 2010 at 1:52 pm
This made my heart ache – in a happy sappy kinda way. <3