For example: Whit has been sleeping like an absolute NIGHTMARE (and you optimists thought I was going to say charm) in his new bed. I’m sleep deprived in a way that reminds me of nothing less than those awful first newborn days. And yet I go in when he is up in the night and rock him and he falls limp in my arms and I try to remind myself of how quickly these days go. How soon he won’t want me in his room at all, how quickly both of them will be barricaded behind doors wedged shut, sitting at their computers IMing with pals I have never met and friending people on Facebook.
How soon those days will come and how wistful I will be then for these very days. For right now. How come that doesn’t help me live here, now? Once in a while, I find I am able to do that. Yesterday morning, I did. We had the most splendid Sunday morning, the three of us – we went for a long stroll, got coffee, bumped into friends, played aimlessly, chatted, walked into the Square, got lemonade, laughed. It was sunny (both the weather and everyone’s moods), it was relaxed, it was unstructured, and it was absolutely perfect. If only every Sunday morning could be like yesterday!
On the note of fledgling independence, here is a picture of Grace running at Hadley’s that I love because it looks, to me, like she is on the verge of taking flight. And, indeed, she is, right?
