Today my 2 year old son opened the bag of hand-me-downs from his cousins. Instantly he zeroed in on the aqua blue rainboots with red trim and pull up handles.
It's 70 degrees today, a splendid fall morning. The kind where anything is possible and you feel your potential coming back.
He puts on the boots. Walks around. They are two sizes too big.
Me: "Honey, you can't wear those today. Put on your crocs."
Him: "But I want to."
Me: "It's too hot."
Him: (Eying the boots lovingly). "But I want to."
When does it end, this logic-defying, unedited desire for what is beautiful and new, happy and free? I envied him in that moment. Me, anxiously living in the forward, not in the moment, late for work, rushing us all into the car. Him, fixated on what was in front of him, what pleased him, what made him happy.
He wore the boots.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Did Burger King know what they were doing when they invented the Angry Sandwich collection? Could they have foreseen my collision with their creation, when, after a ten day vacation (that's a funny word there) with my kids aged 1.5 and 2.8, I exploded into their parking lot off of Rte. 24 coming off the Cape at the end of summer and the end of Sunday and saw the sign - Get Angry!
After a two hour drive filled with screaming, hitting, whining (the kids), singing (mine) and crying (also mine), I was already well beyond angry and deep into Enraged, heading straight for Incensed, Blind with Fury and beyond that, Just Plain Loopy.
Like moms, fast food apparently has a whole bunch of ways to be angry. Angry Tendercrisp! Angry Chicken! Angry Whopper! Angry Double Whooper! There was even an Angry Triple Whopper - I guess for people with not one or two but three unruly, exhausted, famished toddlers at the tail end of a vacation. No matter. The fries (not angry but not serene either) and angry Tendercrisp soon populated the floor, as did our new Pokemon play figure. "Mommy, what's this?"
"Mommy, what does it do?"
"It eats your money. And your pride."
"Mommy, can we get another one?"
How many hours til I go back to work?
Monday morning never looked so good.
Posted by Tracy McArdle at 3:44 PM