Cinnamon Stick Memories
My grandson is coming for the day, so I have to rearrange things a bit before his arrival. He is very good usually, but he is not quite 2, and certain things catch his eye, like my Internet modum. Anything that has a light or blinks, he wants to investigate.
When my granddaughter was here the other day, she was doing her crafts on the table. She was painting, colouring, cutting and pasting. She is very neat and keeps a tidy work space. Of course, that wasn't always the case. When she was my grandson's age, she was messy and curious as well. I thought about how she has grown and matured over these past few years, and how proud we are of her. I can't help myself however, to feel that twinge of regret and sadness that she doesn't need me the same.
My granddaughter wanted to make some Christmas tree ornaments for her mommy, so we went to the dollar store, and looked at their selection of crafts. Twenty dollars later, she had 2 bags full of crafts to keep her busy until the big day arrives.
As she was painting, I watched her, and was drawn back in time 20 years to another time and house. My son was 5, and my daughter was 4, they were sitting in our dining room at the table, surrounded by paint, glue, glitter and precious treasures their little hands created. I still have them, and every year, when I unpack the Christmas decorations, I remember that day.
Cinammon stick Santa's, that still have that fragrant scent everytime they are unpacked. They also made litttle painted snowmen, with uneven eyes and a big smile, clothes pins turned into Rudolph, and gingerbread men, sewed lovingly by chubby little fingers, decorated with floss and ric rac. Now, my grandchildren are making their own treasures. I know I am sentimental, but with each passing year, I remember my own children little, and full of wide eyed wonder and innocence and I miss it.
Our Santa Claus parade is this coming Saturday night. God willing, we will be there watching with my daughter and grandchildren. My granddaughter, like all children gets excited by the lights, music, all the doctorated floats and of course seeing Santa sitting in his sleigh at the end is a highlight. I recall, when my children were about 7 and 8, we were waiting for Santa, there was a long pause between floats and my children, full of excitement and boredom, began to irritate each other. My husband, told them to be kind and behave, because he knew Santa personally. They laughed at that idea, but they did behave. As the big guy himself approached, my husband began waving and yelled "Hi Santa!" Santa, looked over, seeing my husband, waved and said "Hello" calling my husband by name. My children, stopped, and looked at my husband and then at Santa and yelled to him, "You know my dad?" Santa, laughed and said "I sure do, I know your mom and you two as well! I can see everything you do!" It was great! Knowing the man who plays Santa, turned out to be a huge incentive for my children.
I don't know if we will have the same luck this year, but just seeing the look on all of the children and adults faces is worth standing in the cold. I look forward to watching my grandson's reaction this year.
Children grow, that is what they are supposed to do. They leave behind sticky fingers, tears, bed time stories, not to mention, crawling into bed with you when they're scared, they grow up, and one day you realize they haven't done something in a long time, and you miss it. I know I do.
So, today, I will be on the floor, chasing my grandson, yelling in a deep voice" Fe fi fo fum, I'm going to get my little one!" I will chase him with my arms out, and listen to him giggle. I will scoop him up in my arms, and kiss and hug him. I will let him explore my cupboards and make a mess, and let him roll his car on my sectional, making "vrum vrum" noises. I will cuddle him, and rock him to sleep for his nap, then watch him while he sleeps. I will take pictures with my mind, and hold them in my photo album inside my heart, pulling them out when I need a lift, smiling, remembering.
Children grow up, that is what they are supposed to do, but in the meantime, I am going to hold on to all of these rites of passage, because one day, they will just be memories.
When my granddaughter was here the other day, she was doing her crafts on the table. She was painting, colouring, cutting and pasting. She is very neat and keeps a tidy work space. Of course, that wasn't always the case. When she was my grandson's age, she was messy and curious as well. I thought about how she has grown and matured over these past few years, and how proud we are of her. I can't help myself however, to feel that twinge of regret and sadness that she doesn't need me the same.
My granddaughter wanted to make some Christmas tree ornaments for her mommy, so we went to the dollar store, and looked at their selection of crafts. Twenty dollars later, she had 2 bags full of crafts to keep her busy until the big day arrives.
As she was painting, I watched her, and was drawn back in time 20 years to another time and house. My son was 5, and my daughter was 4, they were sitting in our dining room at the table, surrounded by paint, glue, glitter and precious treasures their little hands created. I still have them, and every year, when I unpack the Christmas decorations, I remember that day.
Cinammon stick Santa's, that still have that fragrant scent everytime they are unpacked. They also made litttle painted snowmen, with uneven eyes and a big smile, clothes pins turned into Rudolph, and gingerbread men, sewed lovingly by chubby little fingers, decorated with floss and ric rac. Now, my grandchildren are making their own treasures. I know I am sentimental, but with each passing year, I remember my own children little, and full of wide eyed wonder and innocence and I miss it.
I don't know if we will have the same luck this year, but just seeing the look on all of the children and adults faces is worth standing in the cold. I look forward to watching my grandson's reaction this year.
Children grow, that is what they are supposed to do. They leave behind sticky fingers, tears, bed time stories, not to mention, crawling into bed with you when they're scared, they grow up, and one day you realize they haven't done something in a long time, and you miss it. I know I do.
So, today, I will be on the floor, chasing my grandson, yelling in a deep voice" Fe fi fo fum, I'm going to get my little one!" I will chase him with my arms out, and listen to him giggle. I will scoop him up in my arms, and kiss and hug him. I will let him explore my cupboards and make a mess, and let him roll his car on my sectional, making "vrum vrum" noises. I will cuddle him, and rock him to sleep for his nap, then watch him while he sleeps. I will take pictures with my mind, and hold them in my photo album inside my heart, pulling them out when I need a lift, smiling, remembering.
Children grow up, that is what they are supposed to do, but in the meantime, I am going to hold on to all of these rites of passage, because one day, they will just be memories.
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