This morning Ella told me the things she would ask God if she wrote him a letter:
"First I'd ask God what he looks like, then I'd ask him how he named all the food that we eat, then I'd ask him what the process was for him to get me into your tummy . . . and then I'd ask him how Poppy's doing."
She said this all very matter-of-factly while munching on a blueberry waffle dripping with syrup. I just looked at her and wondered how I could ever be in a bad mood when she makes incredible statements like this one.
Then there's Jack - my goofy, gangly, almost as tall as me, smart-mouthed little Jack. He also makes me smile but in a very different way.
The other day I took the kids to Old Town Alexandria for lunch and a leisurely walk along the riverfront. This has become a favorite outing of ours and somewhat of a tradition - we eat lunch at the Fishmarket, walk down to the marina, watch the ducks and the tourists feeding the ducks, then stop by the Torpedo Factory to peruse some interesting art before heading home.
As we were walking along the river a man walking toward us stumbled as he was climbing a set of steps and did one of those flying-forward-and-almost-falling-but-not-quite moves. The kids both stifled giggles as they walked by while I shot them the "don't you dare laugh" look. Once we'd passed the man, Jack looked at me and said - "Mom, are you at the age now that if you fell down you wouldn't be able to get back up again?"
Wow. Really?
I told him he must really think I'm over the hill. He replied that I wouldn't be over the hill until I turn fifty. Great - I guess that means I only have about eight good years left in me.
Later I thought about it and realized that it's been a really long time since I've actually fallen down. Would I be able to get up? I'm not so sure. Let's hope I don't find out anytime soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment