“EB not know how to fix this bracelet.”
It’s today’s tempest in a teapot. A flimsy plastic purple bracelet (“Hey mom. This EB’s fav-0-rite color.”) has had the audacity to lose a strip of the plastic flowers circumnavigating the bangle. Great consternation from someone whose fingers lack the mature dexterity to weave the obstinant flowers back into place. “Hey mom…” I brace myself for scheduling surgery on something that cost all of $0.000012 to make. It will cost me at least three minutes of my day to fix. Let’s review: the durn thing cost all of $0.000012 to make.
“Hey mom. Daddy fix this when Daddy get home.”
So there’s another superstar on the scene these days. Then again, like all the post-modern heroes of our day, this superstar doesn’t always get it right.
“Hey mom…” We’re on the steps this time, hand in hand, one small socked foot held in limbo between steps nine and ten. “Hey mom. Daddy not get EB bandaids for EB’s thumb.” The thumb in question was yesterday’s tempest in a teapot. This once-upon-a-baby who once-upon-a-time couldn’t twitch a muscle without me knowing it procured her first paper cut somehow somewhere. Brave little thing that she is, she uttered no complaint other than a repeated declaration of surprise throughout the day: “Thumb hurt. Hey mom, EB’s thumb hurt.” After examining said thumb with squinted eyes and a double magnifying glass, I did indeed find the fine slice through the pad of her thumb. I fobbed off treatment to the superstar waiting in the wings: “Maybe you and Daddy can go pick out bandaids at the store when he gets home.”
She likes purple.
She thinks she wants purple Dora bandaids.
As far as I’m concerned, her wish is my command.
Like her wish for ice cream with M&Ms on top. And ride number three on the carousel (and because it’s all about the little things, she chose the seal first, the purple dragon second, and the panther third). And “Take off shoes, Mama. Run around in grass.”
So I do take off my shoes and run around in the grass, following her lead of spirals leading nowhere (which in essence is everywhere) and let my toes remember what it feels like to have the springy squish of green beneath them.
What is childhood for if not the utter liberty to laugh and squeal and collapse exhausted in the summer grass?
Sometimes “Yes” is the most powerful tool in a parent’s arsenal.
Yes, you may pick the Dora bandaids.
Yes, you may have M&Ms on that.
Yes, you may have one more ride.
Yes, I’ll run barefoot with you over the lawn.
Yes, I’ll fix that purple bracelet, no matter the cost.
When it becomes far too easy in life to let slip the automatic “No,” perhaps it’s time to reconsider the occasional benefits of “Yes.” That, or the magical phrase, “Go ask Daddy…”
Nothing says summer quite like ice cream and carousel rides, unless it’s a romp through a grassy field. To combine all three into a great day of Pittsburgh fun, take EB’s suggestion to kick off your shoes at Schenley Plaza and don’t forget to top your ice cream from Dave & Andy’s with a multi-colored dash of M&Ms.