This past Saturday afternoon, we were all in the kitchen having lunch. We had a baseball game to get to, and Chris and I were hurrying around trying to get ready to go and the kids were goofing around while they ate.
And I thought to myself in the middle of the shuffle, “I’ll miss this one day.”
I’ll miss the normalcy of intense Pokemon discussions and negotiations over how many carrots have to be eaten.
I’ll miss the countless, half-dressed baby dolls that I have to share meals with on a daily basis.
I’ll miss the rush, rush, rush of getting somewhere and then the stillness of finally being there.
I’ll miss walking in on whispered conversations between the kids that instantly stop when I come close (suspicious…) and I may even miss the loud screeches of outrage as an injustice occurs over who gets the next turn on the iPad.
(Maybe I won’t miss that part, actually.)
The end of a school year always makes me nostalgic. It’s such a vivid marker of time passing, and an unkind reminder that babies grow up in the blink of an eye.
And so in the midst of the chaos of baseball and ballet and Cub Scouts and tennis and sleepovers and swimming and birthday parties and the ending of school years and the beginning of summers, sometimes it’s nice to pause on a busy Saturday morning, throw my hands up in the air, and say, “Thank you, Lord, for this season in my life.”
Because I’ll miss this one day.