our endless numbered days
Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 5:51PM
The holding pattern is different this time. It looks more chaotic in some ways, but homier. More wintery, with readings and re-readings of the Corduroy saga, grilled cheese sandwich eating and cookie baking, different shows on the television, and more often than I'd like. Baby stuff being set up, always with the repeated explanation that this new apparatus, those tiny diapers, the clothes waiting to be folded are for the baby.
We're snowed in, like the rest of everyone here, and making soup, doing the wash, taking naps and grading papers. Trying to get outside to play, but with bursts of enjoyment rather than the unabashed, day-long cold weather love I see in people's photos, on the faces of the neighbor kids pulling each other down the street on sleds. My boy is my boy, indeed. The snow is pretty, from the warm indoors, once the requisite snowman's been made.
I wonder if he knows what's about to happen. All the talking about, the making room and unpacking probably can't prepare you to meet the person who'll be your number two, the "other one" to your "soccer ball," the one with whom you'll share a bedroom and a back seat and, eventually, some phone conversations about your dumb old mom and how she screwed up.
Reader Comments (2)
There's a great song about siblinghood that my kids and I love. It's Cartwheels and Somersaults by Justin Roberts and we find it so perfectly describes the way we feel about our littlest. You can listen to it here: http://www.reverbnation.com/artist/song_details/6176647
Criminy, Dee. That is freaking adorable.