A New Development...
So, my family went on vacation the first week of January as we always do. Only, this year, my Dad couldn't come because SOMEONE needed to stay home in case Tia popped out a baby while we were gone. And Lord knows, that someone would not be me. Can you imagine? Me, walking into the barn and seeing three perky sets of eyes looking at me instead of two? No, thanks.
So off we went, into the world of Babies and Snow and OH MY WORD THE SNOW. We went North, and believe it or not, it is possible to get more snow there than it is to get here.
So, there was skiing. Not for me. I prefer to drink pitchers of beer on the mountain village over skiing. But every day my mother went cross-country skiing with my uncle and I was a little envious because I, too, desired to ski.
We returned home and life was grand and the other day I came in from work to find a pair of ski boots at the kitchen table. I was all like, Sweet! Ski boots! And my mother informed me that they were for my nephew because he is an avid skier who has outgrown last year's skis. And I was all like, Oh, well, you know, they look a little small.
And then my nephew, that dashing young lad, tried on the boots and complained that they were too small.
Rewind: Over the last few months he has basked in the fact that my barn boots fit him. And every time he said it, I figured it was just an exaggeration and that if he were to run from the path of a charging horse, the boots would fly off his feet. Because, you know, he is only NINE and he can't possibly be the same size as me.
So he complained about the ski boots and I p'shawed him and put them on my own feet.
And then they fit me.
And then I made him sit down on the floor in front of me and press his feet to mine. You know those feet: The teeny, tiny feet that used to pitter-patter across the kitchen? The itsy-bitsy feet that I used to rub Johnson's Pink Lotion on after a bath? The little feet that would climb the ladder of my bunk bed and crawl in next to me while I slumbered? Those feet? Do you remember those feet?
Because those feet, the ones I just mentioned in the paragraph above, HAVE CEASED TO EXIST. In their place are a set of monstrous boy-feet that are the same size as mine.
And you know, you never think of these things. Time just passes by and one day you wake up and where there used to be a small, innocent, wonderful little being is someone who is large and in charge, full of ideas and thoughts and questions that stop you in your tracks. And as much as I want those tiny little feet to carry a tiny little child into the room, I enjoy looking at the person this child is becoming. Because he is just too much fun.
So off we went, into the world of Babies and Snow and OH MY WORD THE SNOW. We went North, and believe it or not, it is possible to get more snow there than it is to get here.
So, there was skiing. Not for me. I prefer to drink pitchers of beer on the mountain village over skiing. But every day my mother went cross-country skiing with my uncle and I was a little envious because I, too, desired to ski.
We returned home and life was grand and the other day I came in from work to find a pair of ski boots at the kitchen table. I was all like, Sweet! Ski boots! And my mother informed me that they were for my nephew because he is an avid skier who has outgrown last year's skis. And I was all like, Oh, well, you know, they look a little small.
And then my nephew, that dashing young lad, tried on the boots and complained that they were too small.
Rewind: Over the last few months he has basked in the fact that my barn boots fit him. And every time he said it, I figured it was just an exaggeration and that if he were to run from the path of a charging horse, the boots would fly off his feet. Because, you know, he is only NINE and he can't possibly be the same size as me.
So he complained about the ski boots and I p'shawed him and put them on my own feet.
And then they fit me.
And then I made him sit down on the floor in front of me and press his feet to mine. You know those feet: The teeny, tiny feet that used to pitter-patter across the kitchen? The itsy-bitsy feet that I used to rub Johnson's Pink Lotion on after a bath? The little feet that would climb the ladder of my bunk bed and crawl in next to me while I slumbered? Those feet? Do you remember those feet?
Because those feet, the ones I just mentioned in the paragraph above, HAVE CEASED TO EXIST. In their place are a set of monstrous boy-feet that are the same size as mine.
And you know, you never think of these things. Time just passes by and one day you wake up and where there used to be a small, innocent, wonderful little being is someone who is large and in charge, full of ideas and thoughts and questions that stop you in your tracks. And as much as I want those tiny little feet to carry a tiny little child into the room, I enjoy looking at the person this child is becoming. Because he is just too much fun.
Labels: Family
posted by Amanda at 00:33
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