We collectively decided to walk to school today. It was a grey morning, and un-characteristically misty. (!!! My heart was singing)
We took off in our behemoth stroller which fits all three kids, Esmé with her Blue Maraca, Emmett with a granola bar, and Elliette with a wee box of raisins she wanted to have as her morning snack at school.
It is a one mile walk. About 1/3 of the way we turn the corner onto 6th street to go through the Jungle! (Tall grasses planted on either side of the walk). This corner is a favorite for them, and once through the grasses we see what jungle animals we see. A grey elephant (minivan), and a blue warthog (geo metro) and even a storm trooper (camry). I don't bother telling Emmett Strom Troopers do not live in the jungle, because as my family is all too aware - I know nothing about Star Wars. So for all I know they're swinging in the tree-tops.
Along we go, laughing and having fun, skipping and running. We arrive at school and the kids go off to their respective classrooms. Elliette is excited to show Ms. Lizzy her dress, and Emmett is feeling proud he will not cry when I leave. (He doesn't.)
And off I go to stroll with Esmé to enjoy our Blue Wednesday. I watch her gnaw her blanket through the little window in the stroller canopy and coo at the leaves over-head. I breathe the misty air; I love how cool, wet air feels in my lungs, and I don't get it much here in SoCal. Then, I see: Elliette has left her raisins.
At this point I'm about half-way home. I stop and start to think "Oh, she won't remember."
Then I realize who I'm talking about... Elliette has a memory like none other. I imagine her sad face when it's snack time and she has no special box of raisins. So, I go back.
Peering in her classroom, I see her buddies flying paper air plans all about. I see her playing in a deep table-top full of water and boats. I savor a moment of just watching her long arms bobbing the little boats to and fro... to and fro...
She sees me and yells "Mama!" while running over. I give her the raisins and she says, "Thanks, Mom! You're the best."
And I know that I really am.