August 28, 2007

Of Snotty Noses and Sticky Fingers

Some times you just need a snotty nose. And sticky fingers. When they come with delighted cries of “Ca-wa” each time he discovers I'm still there and tugs on the hand to take me to his next adventure... well, the world doesn't get any better than that.


I spent my vacation with my best-friend, a woman who has been there for me in ways and at times I can't even begin to recount in the space I plan to spend here. She is indispensable. These days she comes with the bonus of a husband I enjoy and a munchkin who is the light of my life. And the 48 hours I spent with them were more revunating than any other vacation I could have come up with. In the last 20 months, the shock of the fact that my best-friend is a mom has worn off, but there is still a great pleasure in being folded in to her little family. I loved the conversations interrupted by “rock a rock, peas” as, I imagine, only the childless can. But, how could I resist this little bit of connection between me and him?


I had innocently set the munchkin in the rocking chair to allow myself easy access to his feet while I put on his shoes. How was I to know he had never sat in the chair alone before? He was so very proud of himself, and rocking the chair while sitting alone was clearly an adrenaline rush for him. For the rest of my visit, he would declare “rock a rock” at regular intervals and insist that we depart immediately for the rocking chair. He'd sit in it and rock with the greatest devil-may-care grin on his face. It was the kind of moment you live for.


So, I spent my vacation supervising a rocking chair, playing with shapes, reading book after book, passing stuffed animals back and forth for hugs, taking walks holding adult conversation while standing up, creating gin rummy tournaments after bedtime and a hundred other small and beautiful moments. It was perfect.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sounds like a perfect weekend to me! Carrie

Brit said...

I loved the conversations interrupted by “rock a rock, peas” as, I imagine, only the childless can.

those are the comments that let the 'childful' know that not everyone on the airplane hates them even though their three year old has been saying "I'm in the sky, plane in the sky, mama in the sky" on repeat for Five hours...