When I visit my daughter, I have learned that the bathroom on the second floor does not come equipped with towels of any sort, or soap.
With four children under the age of 7 occupying the entire second floor by themselves, towels and soap are dangerous as is toilet paper, but three of the four don’t normally use the toilet paper anyway, much to my ewwwwwness, so there’s been no problem with being stranded.
Soap, however, is a different ballgame. There is a slight obsession with soap from a bottle, and it is not uncommon for an hour of hand washing and bubble making and sink filling to go by with no supervision on second floor free time.
So, this trip, I came prepared with a bar of hand soap.
Monday morning. The kids wake up, I am in the bathroom finishing makeup, and the oldest comes in to join me. After she had gone to the bathroom, I reminded her to wash her hands. She did what she normally does and stuck her hand under the water for a total of 1.5 seconds and turned off the water.
“Huh uh. Use soap, sweet girl.”
Oldest looked at me, looked all around, and said, “There isn’t any soap.” I pointed out the bar of soap next to the sink, and she picked it up.
“What is THIS?!” she asked.
Oh dear. It’s a different world these kids live in…
I have been privileged to take over bedtime duties for the four olders and after brushing teeth, we read a book or few before tucking and prayers. The two oldest were taking turns helping me read a book on Monday night, sounding out the simpler words on the page.
Andrae, emphasizing those consonants: “The RUH-at, rat, and the CUH-at, cat, went PI-it-ter PUH-at.”
Anissa, in a very serious tone with a very serious face: “ANDRAE. Your P is in my FACE.”
Shopping. It’s an experience. It’s an adventure. Three girls under 7, purses in tow, boots, frills, looking for the perfect little girl wow.
One boy, all grown up with five years under his belt, determined to find that sword that lights up, fist full of money coins that aren’t enough to buy more than a candy bar but in his mind, it’s enough to buy that $50 remote control four wheeler toy.
Two babies, one 18-month-old in shopping cart and wide-eyed wonderness, one in newborn recliner known as a car seat, Momma giving full attention to her newness and determined to continue life as normal.
Aisles of Christmas must haves, when around a corner, they are spotted. An entire rack of glittery, sparkly, puppy dog purses.
Three-year-old and four-year-old, in unison, and loud enough for all in the department to hear:
“OH. MY. GOSH!!”
This Ama is so very grateful for tired bones, aching feet, sore back, and heart full.
This Ama is so very grateful for “Ama!” “Ama!” “Ama!” “Ama!!” “Ama!!!”
This Ama is so very grateful for lots of giggles, chortles, tee hees, chuckles, guffaws, and laughter.
Hers…but especially, theirs.