Mommy and She
Little D is turning five in a few weeks and the big celebration is on Saturday.
Like I said earlier this week, it is so cliché, but the whole transition is very bittersweet.
I remember being five.
I remember when the first of my friend’s kids turned five and I thought it seemed so big. So independent. So on their way.
I remember looking at her when she was just one and thinking she would stay that way forever.
Chubby little cheeks, uneasy little stride, goofy little giggles.
But the cheeks have slimmed down and are starting to show the signs of bones that many will envy some day. The stumbling stride has been replaced by a confident run. And the giggles too often get surpassed for “Mommy, I am busy drawing,” or “Mommy, please get me more milk,” or “Mommy, I need some time to myself.”
I watch her outgrow another favorite pair of jeans. I see flashes of insecurity when kids snub her on the playground. I relish her excitement when she senses our pride in her.
I see all the things I was at five. Stubborn, picky, full of things to say, smiling, sharing (most of the time), longing for security and safety.
And I worry that maybe somehow, some day we won’t be best friends forever.
Then this morning came along.
And Little D woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She whimpered for a bit and then it graduated into an emotional cry. She writhed in that uncomfortable way you do when your legs are too long for your body, your hair is in your face and you really wish you were still in a deep slumber.
The way a 5-year-old does.
But she reached for me. Not for a hug or a giggle. Just to sit with her. Just to be there. Just to stay.
An hour or so later, when we are at school, ready for drop off, she let my hand fall from her grip and ran off with her favorite friend.
Cheekbones flushed, confident run, giggles aplenty…though not for me.
And that was ok.
I just knew, just like that. It would be forever and a day.