This always happens: my kids grow up and I miss it, somehow. It starts happening right from the earliest infancy. You are thinking of them as completely helpless, and then you notice that they are doing something, a certain look or reaction or action, that makes you realize that they are way ahead of where you thought they were. And as I became seasoned as a parent, I'm coming to terms with the fact that this is just how it works. The keep slipping out from under me, and I run to catch up.
We realized today that Ruby is big enough to put in the exer-saucer. She's probably been ready for weeks, but we were still thinking of her as tiny and helpless. We brought it up for dinner time, and she sat-stood in it the whole time, quietly puttering away at some project or other, completely absorbed, and playing by herself.
Today was also Family Day, so we went out for brunch. Just the four of us, since the Big Kids had to go to school. The experience at the restaurant was relaxed, pleasant, unhurried... When did this happen? Wasn't it just yesterday that "Tim in a restaurant" required quick service and constant high-intensity management? Does this mean we don't have to dread restaurants any more? (It does. At least for another couple of months... Though the way things are going with Ruby, she'll be happy to just to sit calmly in a high chair, sardonically flicking Cheerios at passers-by.)
For Family Day, we also enjoyed an afternoon at the Aviation Museum. I'd never been before, so check that off the list. It's a lovely, very mellow place. So much space for a kid to run free, and just enough hands-on to keep them interested. (Pictures to come.)
Finishing off the day: Little kids in bed, Big Kids out for a skate on the canal with Dad, and Mom with a moment of blessed Quiet Time. (On my way to bed to work on the last few chapters of The Lacuna.)
Life is good.
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