Shortly after waking, Max was out the door in the falling snow without shoes, hat, coat or mittens. And back in. And out. And in. And out. Cheering with glee and getsitement and proclamation and anticipation while I was making eggs for a sobbing, starving and very impatient Sam.
Out and in. Out and in. The golden jingle bells hanging on our front door announced his indecision each time, until the door slammed and there was a crash and a "MOHHHHM!"
**********************
On the floor next to the door lay a crippled wooden horse that used to hang in my grandparents' farmhouse welcoming their guests. With two freshly broken legs. It's a sentimental item, and, along with the countless other holiday items that are missing feet, arms, wings, hats, etc. due to little hands dropping or squeezing them, kind of broke my patience. I burst into tears and mumbled about how everything gets broken around here and I can't have special things out and Wahahhwaaaahwaaah. Totally ridiculous, but thoroughly shocking and unexpected - for both them and me. The boys became hushed and apologetic, exchanging worried glances and wondering, hopefully, if I was just laughing.
Max even suggested that I might need to go to my room until I could stop crying.
Dude. If only I could.
My frustration was brewing faster than my eagerly anticipated morning coffee until I looked out the window. And what to my wondering eyes did appear?
A reminder...
That in the midst of the chaos and the cold, in the bleak and long gray days when I am stuck in the house with the ricochet of two preschool-aged boys, there is beauty. And stillness. And a tiny imprint of what will one day be much bigger and won't return back to my door in such a rush.
Wooden horses? Those can be replaced. These little piggies?
Irreplaceable.
2 comments:
And this was the post in which you were awarded your blogging black belt for strength in story telling and agility/flexibility (you made me both cry *and* laugh).
Anonymous said it much better than I could...
HUGS over the rocking horse.
And what a neat pic of the barefoot prints in the snow. I envy your ability to let them experience those things. I'd have probably been hollering for them to get back inside and get shoes on, and would have managed to miss the specialize of their joy and the experience. sigh...
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