Wipe Your Nose on Me Anytime

I've always wanted to write books for children. I once wrote a story for my daughter's preschool class with about 12 hours notice of its due date, and the collaboration of mother and daughter was a touching story of a mother's frustrations with a roller-coaster workday, ending with the yummy tummy-butterflies that accompanied preschool pick-up time each day, complete with crayoned illustrations. Since then my eyes seem to be wide open to topics that translate readily...if they were only accompanied by a free-pass for the time it would take to better explore them. Laugh if you will, but one of ideas on the list is about a Mom that gets used for a multitude of services- jungle-gym, dinner napkin, chauffeur, maid, and snotty-nose tissue. While sometimes a parent's affection might be dismissed, these other services are always in demand. And for a working parent juggling so many demands, these lovingly provided favors can take on the nasty smell of burden when things get to be too much.

This morning my children allowed me to sleep in late. Oh, and I mean in. For me at least, 9:20 am is like lunch time. I got up groggily and thanked them for their returned favor. They obliged because I had promised a lazy day of pajamas, books and Wii. But after one cup of coffee, the spontaneity bug bit me and within no more than a half-hour, we were speeding along to the movie theater for a popcorn breakfast and unplanned theatrical journey. My wild things and I saw Where the Wilds Things Are, and as they munched one portion after another of salty and "buttery" goodness, I held back one salty drop after another. Maybe its PMS, but the story was incredibly touching as I saw so much of my own son in this quirky character struggling to be himself in a big, disinterested world. There were ups and downs in the film, and it would be easy enough to watch it superficially for a yuck at the monsters' body-slamming flops. But as I sat there with a snuggly, warm boy next to me, I was reminded of how significant everything we do and say as parents, or just as the big people, is in the lives of the smaller ones. I was already a fan of the screenwriters, and of the not-for-profit contributions of the one (of which my own children are the lucky benefactors), but I think I could go as far as to recommend the film as necessary viewing for any busy parent.

So today's written reminiscence is small, as I rush to get back to making the hem of my sweater available for salty, dirty, sticky, gooey love.