Yesterday, Asher and I had a moment. One of those sweet, perfect moments where you take a mental picture (having forgot the camera) and hope that it stays there... printed forever just so... perfectly so.
The snow was falling, soft and full flakes... white and entrancing. The first 'real' snow fall of the winter. Isaac was taking a nap so just Asher and I left for the store to get gluten free bread so dad could have lunch. (The boys had their lunch first and now all the bread was gone. One of the many sacrifices of parenthood.) We went to the BYU Creamery on 9th and with one child the shopping trip was fairly painless. Asher pushed around a cart and mostly missed the other shoppers there, but only because I reminded him to not run into people. It is so hard for a young person to be aware of others and realize the consequences of their actions. If he could, I think he would just run with the cart, maybe worrying a little about the cans and food he knocked over and occasionally realizing he bumped a person or scraped a shin but maybe only if they told him. The biggest issue for him was whether he should get a donut, a gluten free sugar cookies, or tic tacs... it changed according to what was in front of him at the time. The tic tacs were the last thing for him to see before we went through the cashier's line so they quickly replaced the pink sugar cookie for the desired treat. It was only after we walked passed the front door that Asher saw the donuts and realized that was what he really wanted. The large (for Asher) maple bars he loved so much were the original desire and having seen them again, he remembered what he had really wanted. But it was too late, the food had been bought and we were heading out to the car. Fortunately there were no tantrums. Just a brief explanation.
"Asher, you already chose to get the tic tacs instead of the donuts. Maybe next time you can make a different choice."
Kids don't have to say much to voice their frustration an
Ughhhh... or Ahhhhh... said with the right tone gives it all away... but he didn't fight. After all, he did have the tic tacs still. Part of me felt like I cheated him because I hadn't reminded him of the donut. I was hoping he would forget. Part of me hoped he would learn something about getting what he really wanted instead of getting just what is in front of him in the moment... is that something a five year old will process? After crossing the road to go back to our car Asher ran up a small hill covered in snow laughing and so proud of himself. (This was the magical moment.) Did I mention the snow was falling?
"Look at me mom!" as he ran, fell and slid down the hill.
I laughed, "Was that fun and scary at the same time!"
"Yeah!" he replied getting back up and running back to the top of the hill.
Soon he was running up the hill and sliding down again on his bum. (he was wearing a snow suit for playing in the snow after we brought dad his food). Who knew that bums could be such perfect sleds. Up and down the hill he went, his little bottom making a new track in the snow every time he came down. I think by the end there were nine little tracks going down the hill.
Each time he would yell out, "Yahoo!" or "Wahoo!" in his perfect four year old voice and laugh.
I just stood and watched, smiling and laughing with him, while I held the groceries... the snow wasn't going to melt the ice cream I had just bought. Half way through our moment of fun, a young woman drove up in her car to offer a ride home and to tell us how fun it was to watch this adorable moment.
Mom's always appreciate someone appreciating their kids.
Every now and then Asher would hold his hands in a ball up to his mouth and blow on them, trying to keep his fingers warm. It reminded me of all the times my hands had been cold and my parents, or grandfather would hold my hands, rub them together and blow on them. It only ever helped just a little, but it gave me the feeling of being loved, being kept safe. Now Asher's poor little hands were experiencing what almost every toddler experiences, the bite of the cold snow. We hadn't been planning on playing in it so he didn't have gloves on. Soon the battle was lost and he came to me with tears in his eyes,
"It hurts mom, make them better." He held up his hands to me and I held them in mine. I took his hands, as others had taken mine, and rubbed them together looking in his brown eyes full of small tears. How I loved him.
"Is that better?"
"No, it still hurts!" at which point his tears became more sincere.
There are things that even moms can't fix, even with all the love we have in our hearts.
I got him into the car, knowing he needed warmer air and some mittens for playing out in the snow later.
I turned on the heater as warm and as high as I could... but even then it took a few minutes for his tears to stop and his hands to feel warm. By that time he was talking excitedly about playing in the snow again... finding a sled... doing anything outside in the cold white snow. Either the fun outweighs the pain or children or eternal optimists.
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