I like to pop a squat in the corner spot on the right end of our L-shaped sofa because the arm is super cushy and it’s next to the end table where I can put my drink of choice. Sometimes the kids will come snuggle up to me while I am sitting there watching t.v. or typing.
This Sunday it happened to be Benja. “The Cowoby game” (as we call it around these here parts) had once again disappointed him and his father so he resorted to a new favorite pastime… Lately he has taken to typing his thoughts in the notes section of my iPad and he came over to do so right next to me. He draped his legs over me and his big, white-socked foot sat atop my knee.
I couldn’t help but look at it with awe. There it was, his big foot. The same foot that used to be so very tiny with the most wee little toes EVER. The same foot they pricked for billirubin tests at just a week old while Tim took him in the room and I sat in the waiting room because I just could not bear to hear his cries.
I sat there and stared at it while he hunted and pecked away, writing out his own words about his day so far and the play we went to see the day before.
I thought about how the foot grew over years and years and I almost didn’t notice and I just kept buying bigger shoes because the other ones didn’t fit anymore, without really thinking about it.
But that’s what we do, us mothers, we just buy the bigger shoes and clothes and they just keep growing out of things and we think nothing of it until one day we are sitting on the couch and these long legs are cascading over us with these HUGE feet at the end and we have no idea how we got here.
Oh and “big foot” is over next to you doing his very own writing and your mind is just blown.