As I always do, this morning I watched my son walk from our door to our neighbour’s house a few doors down – she drives him to school along with her two children each morning. This favour is possibly the BEST thing that’s happened to me this year – it saved me walking my kid to school in the snow, with his sister in the stroller, at 7:40 AM every day. BLESS HER!!
Anyway, I watched Oliver pull his hood over his head, and skip over the larger rain puddles… and then he stopped and crouched.
It’s a snail… I thought to myself. And it was.
He made a plucking motion with his fingers and moved something small over to the nearby grass. He looked down just for a moment longer, and then wiped his fingers on his pants, and moved on down the street.
I feel a familiar tingle behind my eyes and in my nose… I didn’t cry though. It’s not a big deal at all, but I’m rather glad he’s not the sort of boy to stomp on a snail instead. (Some kids just do that sort of thing, you know.) He’s thoughtful. He tries to do the right thing. This boy is good.
It’s the little things that get me – the little character builders that make you hopeful. They make me feel like I’m doing okay at this job sometimes.
Le sigh. This mutherhood thing a looooooong race. Thank goodness it’s not always a sprint.