I told the kids yesterday that I really do not like breakfast in bed, just in case anyone was considering it. Because breakfast in bed is, of course, the traditional mother’s day gift, and I wanted to preempt any designs in that direction because, hey, I don’t get it. What is the appeal, anyway? You get food in your sheets, there’s no place to put anything, kids are jumping you while you try to eat, and I don’t eat breakfast anyway, being a coffee-only kind of gal. Then, to top it off, you get the disaster in the kitchen they left behind as a unintentional “present” to clean up. Oh thank you soo much.
No breakfast in bed for me, no thank you. See, I’m not bitter. Not at all.
I woke this morning to the sound of gentle rain on the yurt and heard clattering about on the other side of the closet/shelf/wall thingy we have and when I got up I found Sophie had cleaned the table off. The kitchen table, you must understand, is rarely visible as a flat surface, being the primary work surface for, well, for everything we do. It is normally heaped with art supplies, mountains of tablets and books and paintings, vases of long dead things, dishes from the last several meals, it’s ridiculous, really. And she had put it all up. In its center, instead of the mess, there was a blue bottle holding a red rose Sophie picked herself this morning while I slept.
Best. Present. Ever.
She also made me a bracelet with turquoise beads, which I am now wearing. She was so proud and pleased with herself! I may never take this bracelet off. Although it is a little tight, and I might get gangrene. So what. Sometimes love hurts.
Luc, seeing all of this, quickly realized he had been outclassed. Working feverishly under the table, he built a box out of legos, with a lego bow on top, for me to unwrap. Inside I found a quartz crystal he had pulled off the shelf. “It’s a crystal!” I said, smiling.
“No, Mommy, it’s treasure,” he said. “Because I love you.”
Okay, I cried.
It’s good to go all gooey every now and then. Don’t tell anybody.