Monday, April 20, 2009
The temperature read 72 degrees but when we got to the soccer field the wind kicked in. Exhibit C, who is typically content to sit sidelined in his Spiderman chair or kick his ball around with the kids who are subbed out, was cold. He crawled up into my lap and I wrapped his jacket around him like a blanket as he curled up into a ball underneath it. I squeezed him tight against me. He wiggled around until he could get his thumb in his mouth, taking it out every now and again to tell me he loved me, ask me if I like Lego Star Wars or Indiana Jones better, or to encourage me to notice the foot he kept dangling out from underneath the jacket to tempt me into tickles. Instinctually, I started rocking him back and forth and, before long, I felt him melt into me and I knew he'd fallen asleep. As I sat there with a fierce wind blowing, whipping pollen into my eyes, sending a chill through me, I was struck by the thought that holding my contently sleeping child on my lap was a simple pleasure no matter in what time or place it happens, and that now that my children are older, it's a pleasure I will not be able to enjoy for much longer. Once again, though, I'm reminded that it's the little things in life that are our greatest gifts.