We'd be at the Golden Arches, carefully watching every move of the children, eating our McSalads and...KIDDING!
We'd be at the Golden Arches, listening for the screams of the children (a sign that all was well, as quiet typically equals calamity when kids are playing) and eating our two-whole-beef-patties...laughing and talking about the glorious days ahead.
The days, my friend predicted, when we would be "...watching the backs of their little heads riding off to school on that big, yellow bus!"
We'd guffaw over our super-sized fries, rolling our eyes and giving one another the "That'll be the day!" look moms often give. Then, about this time, the bubble would burst and someone would have to run and get a manager to unlock the play-place restroom, or pull Mr. Poopie-Pants out of the ball pit.
For those of you chuckling to yourself at the vision of this scene...welcome! You are either still in a cave with little ones, or you are a lot like me (sorry!) and just refuse to get too old or too judgmental to ever forget. I'll arm-wrestle anyone out there who thinks they love their kids more than I love mine, but when I was right in the middle of cavedom, well...I had my share of daydreams about that bus.
After my version of this magical school vehicle pulled out of the neighborhood, I would work-out, write the Great American Novel and whip-up gourmet meals. And that would all be before noon. I'm even funnier than you initially thought, uh?
I'm thankful that you stop by my cave and read my musings. I hope that no matter what stage of life you find yourself in, you can pause every once in a while and latch on to something helpful and hopeful.
Currently, my heart is hanging out somewhere between little tykes underfoot and big tyke's underwear underfoot. Both seasons have moments...of grief and greatness.
I pray for those of you in caves filled with little ones today. One minute you feel like you're going to blow your top, and the next you're blowing a soft, slurpy "raspberry" in the sweet neck on the back of a little head. Listening to one of this cavewoman's favorite sounds ever: the hearty, baby laugh.
I pray for those of you in caves filled with middlers today. One minute you feel like you can't take one more sassy sigh from a tween, and the next you're running your fingers through the messy hair (you wish was trimmed) on the back of that same, sassy head. Listening to one of this cavewoman's favorite sounds ever: the sweet, rare, heartfelt adolescent apology.
I pray for those of you in caves filled with grown kids' boxes and bins today. One minute you feel like you're just going to donate all that junk to charity, and the next you remember the back of that head. The one you watched go off to college...or to the military...or to a trade school...or to a cave of his or her own.
Then, you daydream about the next time you'll wrap your arms around the back of that head and hang on like you'll never let go.
Listening to one of this cavewoman's favorite sounds ever: "Hey, Mom...I'm home."