Today we did nothing.
We stayed in our jammies until noon. We would have stayed in them all day, but we needed to put our bathing suits on to jump in the sprinkler. You’ve never experienced the sprinkler before. “Wuh DAT?!!!” you asked with delight. “It’s a sprinkler!” I said. “Pinker?” you asked. “Yes!” I said. “ME?” you asked. “Yes, you can go in,” I responded.
You ran straight into the sprinkler without a thought or care. I watched your face. It was a delirious mix of exhilaration and terror. I laughed as I scooped you up for a cuddle, and as I wrapped you in a towel, I noticed the tiny peach fuzz on your upper lip. It glistened in the sun and I just…watched it. I touched your lip and you giggled. “Fuffy,” you said. “Fluffy,” I responded.
We didn’t go anywhere today.
Unless you count the walk around our neighbourhood. We went to look for Buttercup the dog and Kitty the cat. We stopped to catch ants and examine gravel. We waved to a baby and watched a women cut her grass for an awkwardly long time. “Engine,” you said. “What does the engine sound like?” I asked. “Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!” you growled. “Yes!” I giggled. “Grass,” you said. “The woman is mowing the grass,” I responded. “Lawn mo-mo,” you said. “With her lawnmower,” I responded. We took the shortcut home through the gully. The shortcut always ends up being the long-cut because there are ladybugs to catch and dandelions to eat. Plus there’s all that grass we simply MUST roll in as you perfect your summersaults.
I didn’t work out today.
But your brother is obsessed with soccer so we did a hundred and fifty ball kicks around the backyard. I’d kick the ball way in front of him and he’d run as fast as he could and dive and roll over the top of the ball. You cheered for him. We laid on the grass and you guys traced your fingers on the pentagonal imprints in the ball. I touched your finger…so sweet and fat. I guided it over the shapes and felt its curiosity. Until you noticed the swing. YOUR swing. You did a MacGyver roll and bolted. “FING!” you declared. “Swing!” I said. “Mommy, do it,” you ordered. “Say please,” I insisted. “Peese,” you said. I pushed you in that swing for half the day, I swear.
You barely made it until lunch time. You melted into a puddle of tears and snot declaring, “Me, Mommy, blankie, bottle, rock.” “Okay,” I said. We snuggled in your rocking chair. You made me sing “Happy Birthday” to everyone you know. I rubbed your hair marveling at its determination to stand straight up. I watched your feet, crossed at the ankles with perfect baby toes. I listened to you gulp. “Nigh, nigh,” you muttered with your puckered baby lips. I tucked you in, but not before I sniffed your milky skin. I lingered over you and listened to your breath…so gentle and steady.
I’m one of those people who is always racing—racing to get to work; racing to pick you up; racing to get stuff done. I plant fleeting kisses on your cheeks as I fly out the door in the morning…coffee dripping, buttons mismatched; hair damp and tangled. My mind churns thoughts like butter relentlessly organizing information trying to keep my feet plodding one in front of the other in this harried rat race.
But not today…
Today we took our time. We relished every moment together basking in each other’s company. Today we went slow.
Today we did nothing…
And it meant everything.