Only one more post about Mother’s Day, I promise.
This was going to be my first post concerning Mother’s Day, possibly even published on The Day. I itched to tell the story all weekend but never got around to it. And then I needed to vent about my stressed-out crummy day. And then I felt the need to illustrate that I’m not a total crab and can actually notice and appreciate the good stuff around me. Which then left this one to get written and published last. Oh, well.
Last Friday was a special day for moms (or some other special someone) to come to the Preschool and have cookies and tea or lemonade with their child. I took off work early and came by. Hal was waiting.
As soon as I arrived, he led me to the refreshment table and announced that he wanted tea…mixed with lemonade. Smiling at the fact that I was serving him instead of what probably was supposed to be vice versa, I mixed his cup and poured me a cup of lemonade. We each grabbed a cookie and headed to his table.
I sat down and he began to pull items one at a time from the bag.
I had a nice pen with a scented flower attached to the top. A portrait of the most beautiful preschooler in the room surrounded by a bright multi-colored pasta decorated heart. A bookmark. And a dozen different pictures made out of thumbprints, handprints, and footprints. Several of them with various versions of the “I grow up fast and these are to remind you of when I was small” poem. I couldn’t help but think to myself that the teachers really should have maybe not had the kids make quite so many similar art projects. Then again, Hal was plainly proud of each one.
My favorite, by far – it always is – was the page where he answered questions about me.
We’ll ignore the fact that I would have had to give birth to his sister at the tender young age of 8, that I can’t remember when I last had a picnic, much less felt relaxed at one, that he’s never actually seen me play hockey (although I did back before Jane was born), that he drew me as a very rudimentary stick figure when he can draw a mean pirate ship complete with cannons and Jolly Rogers on the sails if he’s interested.
We’ll ignore all that and remember that I am special because I like him. Yes, yes I do.