Monday, December 4, 2017

A dinosaur on a scooter.

“Mom, it’s a trash truck! It’s a trash truck! Hurry, hurry, hurry. Wait, I’m going to bring my trash truck to show the big trash truck.” He dashed into his room to get his toy trash truck and carried it out the back door. Wearing only his undies, he ran through the backyard, his white hair catching the sun. He woke up this morning with the most epic bed head yet, and his hair was bouncing as he sprinted. We went into the alley together to greet the trash truck and our neighbor joined us. Everett was jumping up and down the entire time, repeatedly exclaiming, “It’s the trash truck! I’m so excited.” Our neighbor commented about how she had never seen so much joy. The trash man came over and greeted Everett and gave him a sticker. 


“Mom, I want to be a dinosaur today! Help me put on my dinosaur costume.” As the next trash truck came, we ran out to see it, an orange dinosaur and his mama. 

“Mom, do you think that dinosaurs can ride scooters?”

I replied, “There’s only one way to find out,” and he jumped on his scooter and rode around the backyard, stopping every now and then to roar at his little sister and me. 

In total, we ran out of the house eight times that morning to see a trash truck passing through and Everett collected six stickers from different trash truck drivers. For the rest of the day, Everett told everyone we encountered that he saw eight trash trucks that morning and he was very proud. 

These are the simple mornings I want to remember. The do nothing special or important mornings that lead to some of the most special and important times together. Letting go of my plans or agenda for the morning and just being present with my son and following his lead. Slowing down enough to be excited when we have to run out of the house in the middle of what we are doing to greet the eighth trash truck of the day. Saying yes when he wants to go for a walk down the street as a dinosaur. 

These are the days when I am so grateful to have this time off with my kids, so I can be present on a slow morning to savor my son's glowing bed head and the pure joy that he exudes on trash truck day.
"Mom, now I'm a flamingo dinosaur."

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