patience, determination & adventure
It was adorable baby day at Target this morning. In line at the checkout, I was surrounded. The parents of the wee girl in the cart in front of me talked quietly while mom put the baby's coat and hat on. Baby immediately whipped of the hat and examined it with a what-the-hell frown.
All those babies and toddlers reminded me of the day I brought my older son, when he was about two, to Target to show him that rollerblades just didn't come in his size. He was obsessed. Desperate. Wouldn't let it go. So we examined boxes — I showed him how to look for the number that told the size. We found the smallest box, and he heaved out a rollerblade that was approximately as large as he was.
"See, honey? Too big. We'll have to wait until you're a little bigger."
He put his tiny foot in, just to make sure.
Then he sat down on the floor.
I was confused, until he looked up at me and said seriously, "I waiting I get bigger."
Oh.
Oh, dear.
He looked so fragile and pale down there, his slender frame so delicate.
"Well, why don't we go home and have a little lunch while we wait?" I tried not to laugh.
He got up very slowly, like a resigned and somewhat disgusted old man.
I exchanged a smile with an older woman nearby, who mouthed, "Good mommy!"
Quiet patience and determination have been hallmarks my son's personality. Twenty years later, last week, he received his official invitation for an assignment with the Peace Corp. He graduates from college in June, and leaves for the Philippines in mid-July. He never did get big boy rollerblades, but he will still have plenty of adventures. I couldn't be more proud.
All those babies and toddlers reminded me of the day I brought my older son, when he was about two, to Target to show him that rollerblades just didn't come in his size. He was obsessed. Desperate. Wouldn't let it go. So we examined boxes — I showed him how to look for the number that told the size. We found the smallest box, and he heaved out a rollerblade that was approximately as large as he was.
"See, honey? Too big. We'll have to wait until you're a little bigger."
He put his tiny foot in, just to make sure.
Then he sat down on the floor.
I was confused, until he looked up at me and said seriously, "I waiting I get bigger."
Oh.
Oh, dear.
He looked so fragile and pale down there, his slender frame so delicate.
"Well, why don't we go home and have a little lunch while we wait?" I tried not to laugh.
He got up very slowly, like a resigned and somewhat disgusted old man.
I exchanged a smile with an older woman nearby, who mouthed, "Good mommy!"
Quiet patience and determination have been hallmarks my son's personality. Twenty years later, last week, he received his official invitation for an assignment with the Peace Corp. He graduates from college in June, and leaves for the Philippines in mid-July. He never did get big boy rollerblades, but he will still have plenty of adventures. I couldn't be more proud.
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