Before I’m too terribly behind the times, while I had hoped to blog about our mini, family beach trip, I need to share the littlest snippet of my Mother’s Day morning.
But first, please understand the context that surrounded this little snippet:
- The usual poop.
- The usual pee.
- A race against the clock to have everyone ready for church on time.
- And a mighty battle with a stroller that refused to open up out of it’s collapsed position, in the midst of a chilly breeze and some indignant cries from the car seat. (Had no idea that that locking latch even existed!)
In spite of the typical, flustering chaos, I’m quite pleased to report that when I changed Bennett’s diaper yesterday morning, he turned his head, looked me dead in the eyes and simply said, “Mom.”
No, it wasn’t, “Ma ma.” It wasn’t, “Ma.” It wasn’t, “Mommommommommom.”
There was no question mark on the end of it.
It was, “Mom.”
It was as if he had been saying it for eighteen years. The tone indicated that an assumed, “Can I borrow the car?” needed to be tacked on at the end.
Or perhaps, “I’m headed to the store, do you need anything?”
Or maybe, “I’m out of socks.”
It was a moment, that’s for sure.
Happy Mother’s Day indeed!
(Thanks for the picture, Tamra!)