Just One Evening

The other night, Chris took Sammy out to the school playground across the street to practice riding his bike while I chilled out in front of the TV with one eye on Sabrina (as is always required, lest you intend to be replacing something the following day). I was quite happily enjoying the air conditioning (newly replace, thought not at the fault of the aforementioned daughter/tornado hybrid), when the tiny tyrant realized then men in her life were absent and requested to change that, immediately. This is nothing new. Most times, I remind her of one of the multitudes of toys she has, and I can continue not sweating in the indoors for the remaining 20 or 30 minutes until we hail the return of the beloved menfolk. But this time I though, why not? Let's just go see if they are still, in fact, across the street and not gallivanting randomly around the neighborhood. A quick check can't hurt, and if they're not there, I can chalk it up to a bit of extra exercise (I'm so virtuous).

So out the door we went, first side by side, and then her plopped on my shoulders when it became evident that every blade of grass along the way would be of utmost importance. We found our fellas at the swings situated between the school and the football (I'm assuming, there aren't any goal posts or anything, but I'll just go with that or rugby) field. Both the kidlets were pleased with this turn of events, so there was the first bonus point of the evening. But then, the boys had to show us what they'd been up to. Sammy strapped on his helmet and climbed on the bike his dad was holding up for him. And then he took off. All. The. Way. Around. The Field. With no training wheels, leaning into the turns, maintaining speed, not checking over his shoulder to see if we were watching (duh), and coming to a complete stop that didn't include falling over in the dust. Amazing. My big boy. And while I absolutely am wondering where in the world my baby went so fast, I am incredibly proud of him. And of my husband, who took it upon himself to teach this kid something that involved running after him repeatedly and at length in very high levels of humidity and heat. Bravo, Hub.

But lo, things did not end there. No, as we began our return walk home, we stopped at the basketball court where some kid had left his ball (judging by its bleached out appearance, sometime in 1976) for our first family pickup game. Now, you can be sure the people over 4 feet tall claimed the point advantage, but the shorties gave it their all and we may very well have some junior high games in our future. Now, I can't claim to remember all the highlights of my kids' lives (I know Sam said Dada first (don't all kids?), but I'll be gobsmacked as to exactly when), or even my life, but I knew, as it was happening, that this was the kind of special moment you want to look back on, to take that mental snapshot, and know you're looking at a little piece of joy. It doesn't mean much to anyone outside of it, but to those of us inside, it's what you do everything else for.

Not to be outdone, Sabrina had to have her spotlight time later that evening when she was getting her jammies on and just randomly rattled off a bedtime prayer from start to finish without missing a word, without prompting, to her completely astounded mother. I had no idea she could do that. But now we'll be starting with Shakespeare's comedies and see how far we can get by kindergarten.