These many colored days
We wake up - snuggle a bit, have some breakfast.
Eggs. There are always eggs. scrambled. Sometimes toast, sometimes waffles. But eternally, there are eggs.
Then we get dressed. By eight, we are listening for the sound of the milk truck delivering it's goods to the school next door, and we leave. Backpack on, tucked into the stroller. Sometimes she holds my hand, sometimes she rides her scooter. Always she talks, asking questions about our world, or singing. Lately, there has been a lot of singing. When we get to the corners, she bends, and embraces the boy, kissing his soft curls. "I love you Bendyboy! I love you."
We arrive at school, and in a flurry, she is gone. Backpack hung on the hook, friends greeted.
The boy and I are on our own for a while.
We stop on the steps of the school, and watch the buses, trucks and cars go by. "Another car, mama! Another truck is COMING!" he marches up the wheelchair ramp, down the stairs over and over again. Until he is a little tired.
Then we move on. Sometimes we come home, do our chores, make coffee and play. Sometimes, we buy coffee and snacks and go right to the park. Swings! Slides, Climb up, slide down. Over and over again. Always smiling. Ben has a smile that nearly everyone notices.
After the park, we head home. Wash our hands, snuggle the baby, play a bit. Then lunch.
Milk, a story and a cuddle, and a tired little guy is tucked into his crib for a nap. "Sing one more Uppa-Star? Jus'one more?" And I do, because these days are passing me by so quickly. I want to hold them in my heart and savor just one more song, one more hug, one more kiss