There’s something special about Saturdays. This morning I woke and it was raining. Rain meant there would be no Easter Egg hunt downtown. No Easter egg hung meant we had exactly nothing we needed to do today.
Lucy was up around six and snoozing again by quarter after. I laid in bed and listened to the rain and the wind chime. And for Emily. I heard her knocking around upstairs no later than seven. I have never met a kid that take so little pleasure in hanging around in her pajamas. Fully dressed and accessorized she came banging down the stairs with her new bean bag to set up Saturday morning camp. I heard her move the foot stool and kick the tv on.
Into the kitchen she went to get breakfast. I can remember those mornings when I was old enough to make some weird snack for myself. It was exciting to be all alone in the kitchen. Later in the day I pieced together (through careful examination of the countertops) that she’d made cheese quesadillas in the microwave.
We got moving eventually and went out to get Em a new soccer ball. Home by noon. Grilled cheese sandwiches and cat naps all around. Emily left us on the couch in favor of her caterpillar fort eventually.
The grass was mowed. For the first time since we moved in. I haven’t pushed a lawnmower since I left the beach. Four years. You might think only a new homeowner relishes mowing the grass. But that’s not so. There is sweat. And order. And straight lines. And immediate gratification. So many things I find pleasure in.
I thought the day couldn’t get any sweeter. I took a shower. My second of the day, which as a mother of a newborn is cause for celebration.
I thought we would wrap up Saturday much like the week had been. Simple. The kind of Saturday I hope to repeat as often as possible through the years.
When Em ran in the house she stopped at the carpet of the living room. Taking off her shoes she was grinning like a fool.
At long last! A loose tooth. This week’s trip to the orthodontist revealed we’d quite likely be making an appointment soon to have her two front teeth on the bottom pulled out. It seemed at least one of them was planning on coming out on its own.
As a little girl I loved a wiggly tooth. I’d flip that tooth with my tongue for days, until it was hanging by a thread. But I guess when you are six years, seven months and two weeks old before you get a loose tooth you can’t wait any longer.
Three hours later Em came running downstairs. The tooth fairy will be at our house tonight. For the very first time.
You can have Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I’ll take the tooth fairy. Trading a little bitty baby tooth for a moment of magic. That magic is a silver dollar in our house. She will find it in her tooth pillow and put it somewhere for safe keeping.
Emily has a jewelry box in her room. The kind with a ballerina inside. Tomorrow she will place a silver dollar in her jewelry box. Late tonight I will put a baby tooth in the very back of mine.
Turns out this was no ordinary Saturday.
Excitement on the side 