She started coloring at the kitchen island this week. She’s big enough to sit on the tall stools. From way up there, I see glimpses ahead. Glimpses behind. I remember her little seat clamped to the counter on this island. The dogs circles underneath grasping for dropped cereal and drips of yogurt. She giggled at them from high above. Now only one dog waits below. She sits. Riley tells her she’s a good dog. She drops pieces on purpose. The dog offers a high five. Riley laughs at their cherished game.
Time moves quickly. She has worked hard at growing and feels proud to be able to sit up high. She works at her drawing like a precise art over breakfast.
As parents of young ones we spend so much time in it all. The independence comes in steps. Holding a fork. Standing up. Opening markers. Getting dressed.
I’m honored to get a glimpse and watch this one conquer her fears, learn to trust herself, and discover her loves. Even if it’s all just a new place to sit for breakfast.