So, some days you’re the windshield.
I was tired as hell last night and went to bed early. Woke up this morning when Alden snuggled in, about 7, Josh already an hour gone and hammerin’ at his work day. Alden was in a great mood, joking around about feeding the dogs, totally fine with the clothes I’d picked out, declaring “YUM!” at the beakfast plate I handed him (I think of it as “European” (not slacker) when breakfast is toast, rolled-up ham or other available cold meat, fruit, and cheese.)
Off we went to school, and, though the first moments can be a bit unsure for our dude, today was awesome as his buddy Pierson came in moments after and took his hand to pull him off to whatever adventure or challenge they were up to.
I went to work. Did the stuff I needed to do.
When I picked Alden up just before 3 he was truly surprised to see me, but happy, and when I asked him what was the best part of his day he said he didn’t know, because it went so fast.
We came home and while I dished and laundried and cooked dinner he wore costumes, pored over books, wrote me mystery notes and was essentially in a fine mood for three hours until daddy came home and we had dinner (veggie soup with kielbasa and homemade bread) and then watched a short movie about king cobras all together before bed.
I have no idea why his day was so smooth, easy and calm. I do know it is nothing I did.
And I am recording that fact in hopes that the next time his day is a mess of snarls and bruised feelings and skinned knees and prickly interactions, I can remind myself that maybe THAT’s nothing I did, either.
And then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll also remember it in relation to my OWN days of windshield-smoothness… and bug-nasty.