As I walked Brooklyn to school today, she informed me, “Mom, Ashley doesn’t talk much at school.”
“Yep. She’s quiet.”
“Well, some people are quiet. That’s okay,” I explained. “And then, other people are chatterboxes,” I continued.
I looked at Brooklyn and asked, “So what do you think you are – quiet or a chatterbox?”
She glanced up at me with a decidedly guilty look on her face. “I’m a chatterbox,” she admitted under her breath.
I threw my head back and laughed uproariously. Let me explain. This is how the rest of our walk went. . .
“Oh look, Mom! This is where me and Clay and Lexi had a picnic. We sat over there. We had chips. You know those kind of chips that have those crunchy things? And we took juice. But we were out of juice boxes. We just poured some juice in a bottle. But we only had two bottles so we shared. Oh look, pinecones! Remember when I was at Clayton’s baseball game? Remember we were at that park with that boy? He took my pinecones. Is that the park where kids pee under the tree? Nettie said she isn’t my friend anymore. Can we go to the park at my school? Jackson went sledding with me there before. Not now. When it was snowy. In the wintertime. Which way do we go? Is this my left, Mom? You have to check for cars, right Mom? You have to look this way and that way. Do you know what you do if your clothes catch on fire? The fireman told us when we went to the fire station. There was a cat there. Oh look, the sidewalk is bumpy here. Why is the sidewalk bumpy? Are they going to fix it? What’s that? Why is it there? Are we late for school? Do I have music today?”
Then she took a breath and started her second sentence.
Every night, the kids and I take turns going around the dinner table, sharing the best and worst parts of our days. This evening, Brooklyn announced that the best part of her day was walking to school with me. I don’t think I said more than two words on our walk. I guess sometimes all it takes is an open ear. Funny how those moments that seem so insignificant to us can mean so much to someone else.
You must hide your underwear in your jeans at the doctor’s office. She can see your cervix, but heaven forbid she see your undies! Read other helpful tips inYou’ll Lose the Baby Weight (and Other Lies About Pregnancy and Childbirth)!