Better with age before beauty

The cherubs

Ken's mom here -- with a mini monologue on the aging of children. I'm quite certain that one of Time's telling-est tricks is Its ability to bamboozle us into believing that we naturally allow our children to grow up. That, coupled with our inclination to assert a child's future state onto the present (i.e. "A few more weeks, and we'll have you sleeping through the night," or "...if you could just get to the age where you can sit on your own," or "It'll be easier once s/he can [walk] [talk]") can have us caregivers playing fool to the notion that we are ready for the day that our child actually grows up.

Ken yesterday asked me to explain the meaning of the word serious. A reasonable question for a four year old. Not a minute later, he said, "Mom, at school today we played on the playground. I'm being totally serious!" Nicely stated, and well-applied, my inner voice cheered. And, by the way, how have you suddenly gotten so ... tall?

Last week, my three year old asked me why I was putting on my inside shoes. "Well, Sam, my 

Georgia, 3 months shy of two

feet just hurt a little bit. And these shoes help my feet feel better." He then studied my feet, placed his hand on my sneaker and asked, "Mom, what is ... hurt?" I hope I said something age-appropriate and parentally brilliant.

And now, a small story about waffles.
And pie.

Since the dawn of -- well -- Ken's birth, we've enjoyed homemade waffles from our Target-brand Belgian waffle maker. And, on the weekends, it's an extra special treat to squirt Target-brand whipped topping over the syrup-y goodness. Now, the only other time the boys and Georgia have seen this type of topping is at Thanksgiving, when all pies are donned with a dollop or two of this airy goodness. And so, since the dawn of kid time, Ken Sam and Georgia ask for pie. And we know, of course, that they'd like whipped cream. Thusly, for the last four years, all meals of waffles, pancakes, or french toast have been met with kid requests for syrup and pie. Of course.

This weekend, when I asked the cherubs who would like pie, Ken looked at me and calmly stated: "Mom. It's not pie. It's whipped cream."

Really? Who told you that?

Best birthday gift ever

I can only imagine that these "grown up" surprises happen at multiple stages in a parent's life -- these moments that leave us caregivers with a heart-swell. Proud of your age. Your beauty. Your smarts. Proud, yet not quite ready. My cup runneth over. For now, I share the toddler moments -- in hopes that you'll draw strength from the mild humor and stand in solidarity with me as I continue to grow with my children.

And, until we meet again, I'll take my waffles with pie, thank you very much.

Love,
Molly