So, I woke Jessie up at 7:00am. I played Chariots of Fire. This time, I leaned over her bed. She opened her big brown eyes and smiled a million dollar good-morning smile. Then, she reached up and squeezed my nose and said, “honk.” I laughed until I cried.
Friday was a bath day. Jessie wears a swim suit while I wash her hair. I use a green cup from our camping days to rinse her hair. This morning she told me to move the cup over six inches to get other water because it was warmer. I didn’t argue. I just did what she told me to do.
Every day my life is filled with those moments of wonder. I get my nose honked. Jessie irrationally tells me the water is warmer just inches away. And, I go with it. The sad thing about being an adult is that daily life is so crowded with cat pee and floors and rewiring houses that you can’t just live in the moment of a being of wonder called Jessie. Here universe is a parallel one in which there are no bills and no dieting and no political debates. I freely confess I like her world better. I freely confess that I suck at being in the moment. I know people would rather hear the innumerable stories about the wonder of a five year old. But, they happen in such a fleeting way, that reality crowds them out. Indeed, if I just wrote about Jessieisms, I could probably get a blog readership of a million. It would be like Little House on the Prairies, The Waltons, and Kids Say the Darndest Things all in one. With that kind of readership, I could get blog sponsors, make millions, and exploit the innocence that is Jessie. Jessie could be another Macauley Culkin. After all, that tuned out pretty well.
Maybe it would be better if we all just got back to the strange richness of reality sprinkled with wonder.
So, in between, I was making food for Valentine’s Day, and making a custom music CD and uploading Scripture Memory CDs for Jessie and I.
Often, Jessie interrupts the day so she and I can waltz together. Note to self: make more time for waltzing and less time for cat pee.
I made a point of highlighting a few things in school.
In the afternoon, we went to organize the family stuff in storage. We opened, moved, resealed, and labeled several hundred boxes. We pulled out about twenty that need to be incorporated into the new house (like Jessie’s grade two math book). We sent seven hours on the boxes. It was hard on this old man’s back. We’re talking a lifetime of stuff being moved (again) in the course of an afternoon and evening.
We trooped back to the house (new verb for moving from point a to b). We waited for sister to arrive. We moved the couch from the garage back to the living room. Sisters slept on the bunk beds. I slept on the couch.
Prayer. Bible. Bed. We’ve fallen behind on Anne. Day 255 ended with an acetaminophen
Blessings. Although my schedule isn’t going to work out as I would like it to, we still see daily progress. When I get down about the house taking longer than it should, there is still a five-year-old ready to squeeze my nose and say “honk.” Being the one who has a front-row seat to the wonder of Jessie, and even though I’m too busy with today, she’s still there tomorrow to give a fresh set of wonderment. The promise I made to myself to insert more time for waltz.