…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here.

GO:

I know I am. How could that not be the case, when the biology of it is as pure as her gaze and as constant as her daily mommalogues. When I stop to really think about it, I know she doesn’t have to think about it to feel it. And yet, I ruminate, I wonder, I resist her growing love of things outside of and ahead of me. Her independance. As certainly as I send her out seeking them again and again.

She opened her backpack and amidst the tumble of papers was the little booklet that caused my eyebrow to raise up and my heart to give pause. Last week’s primary lesson was on the five senses. They illustrated their favorite sights and sounds, tastes and scents and things to touch. They noticed the ordinary in their day and drew out their love.

“Do you know what I love to see Momma?”

The question was as filled with innocence as her eyes were with joy.

I smiled back in anticipation.

She wakes with Momma on her lips. She chatters through her shower, her dressing, her meals; her play. In a room filled with people, she directs her sites on me instinctually. We remind her to pay attention to everyone. We scold her for the rudeness of her solitary focus. We explain how it makes others feel left out when her mommalogue runs throughout everyone’s day. And yet, it continues. And we try again.

And there, as the story of her day unfolds before me I see a new chapter illustrated on her heart. Her favorite thing to see? It wasn’t momma. It was her teacher. The content of her mommalogue, the newest center of her story was the kind smile of the sweet teacher she hopes to be, one day, to hear her tell it.

It makes me pause and listen- to take her in with my five senses while I still can. To notice, to listen, to cherish and to feel that constant attention of hers while it still wraps around us. For the time being.

Stop.