G wet through his overnight diaper. Again. I strip the bed and gather all the laundry from his room. I walk to McK’s room and grab hers along with all visible yellows. Those things need to be cleaned. It all gets tossed into our giant front loader washing machine. It’s 9:30 AM.
It’s the end of the day. One child is in bed and the other is stalling with requests for the bathroom, her song, and just one more hug. I am emotionally exhausted. This last push before spring break has taken its toll on me. My house looks like a tornado went through it. G-man has discovered the joys of the Tupperware drawer and McK has every doll she’s ever played with on the floor.
But I don’t wanna go to bed. The sun is still up.
Daylight savings time is killer on a toddler’s routine. She gets out of her bed every 10-15 minutes until close to 9:30. Tomorrow morning is going to be awful. I need to wake her at 6:00 AM when her little body still thinks it’s 5:00 AM.
Come morning, I bribe her to get out of bed with the promise of some TV before we leave…as long as she gets a move on.
It’s not time to go to school, Mama. It’s too dark outside.
She’s right. Just last week the sun threatened to burn a hole through your eyes when we pulled from the garage. Leaving home in the dark has a certain kind of eeriness about it…so much more so than coming home in the dark.
Along our way to school, the sky begins to brighten and we can see the trucks hauling their cargo beside us. It’s a new favorite game of ours.
What’s in that truck, Mom?
I think it’s a whole bunch of balloons.
And that one?
It must be macaroni and cheese.
It’s a fun game that began one day when she saw a large salad painted onto the side of a semi as we traveled our familiar route.
Look. God is painting the sky this morning.
When I look at the horizon, my heart stops. She’s right. It’s so beautiful that it could only have been created by God.
I think my Angels are helping him. They like to paint.
These are such wise words from a child who has never really spent a Sunday morning in church. Although we talk about God and she unfortunately is all too familiar with angels, we don’t attend any sort of formal religious services. We pray pretty regularly a simple prayer of Thank you, God, for…and please keep safe… Of course, we talk about our Angel Grandmas–we have all too many of those. Although we are fortunate to have many Grandfathers, we are light on Grandmas as they have all been called to heaven much earlier than anyone could have ever anticipated.
My Angels are good painters. Do you see all that pink, Mama? That’s my favorite color. They know that. They are painting for me.
I’m sure they are, Little One. I’m sure they are.
I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge
I have a date today. He’s a tall, handsome, older gentleman with envious silver hair. He would be described by those of his generation as a silver fox. He’s retired and treats me well. He buys me dinner every Sunday at his favorite restaurant.
McK slept in a crib until we moved to our new house. She was almost two and a half when we spent our very first night here. She got to pick out everything for her new room. She chose a lovely yellow flowered bedspread that matched the white furniture perfectly.
She has the most beautiful hair. It’s long and blond and as thick as can be. It’s shiny and healthy. I am completely jealous. I wrote about it last year. You can read about it HERE.
