Friday, July 25, 2014

Empty Cup, Full Heart

You were playing with magnets before breakfast. Tiny little magnets that I keep tabs on and put away when you are finished, lest you get the funny idea to taste them like you did that dinosaur sticker--I know you know what I'm talking about, little missy. You're finishing your cereal while I take each magnet out of the cup and put them high on the fridge. I sit the cup back where you left it.

After you are finished eating, you run into the kitchen, grab your cup, and race for the living room, forever on a crusade to lose the tiny magnets so that I will lie awake at night and wonder if your stomach can erase the hard drive on my phone.  You make it to the doorway before you actually look into the cup.

"Uh oh! It's empty!"

You pause for a moment before presenting the bowl to me Oliver Twist style.  Please, mommy, I'd like some magnets.  Only, you've gone mute on the  "please" front lately, hastily rubbing your hand on your chest to sign it, looking deep into my eyes, filled with equal parts hope and pending rage:


I smile and fill your cup. Because that's what moms do.  (And then, I text your father.  Because being a parent means celebrating new words, new concepts, and everyday a new you.)

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