A Mom Always Remembers

The 10 year old made waffles for breakfast yesterday.  The homemade kind.  The kind where you mix flour and eggs and milk and pour the batter into a waffle iron.  No one ever taught her.  She looked up a recipe online and figured it out herself.  Those were some of the best darn waffles I’ve ever had.

This morning, I hard boiled the eggs in order to make deviled eggs for brunch.  I didn’t have time to finish so she took over and mixed everything together and finished the eggs for me.  She’s seen me do it a hundred times.  This was the first time she did it herself.

The 8 year old sat down and read a book.  Nothing too unusual except for the fact that she is a slow reader.  She has trouble with spelling.  She has a little trouble with comprehension.  She is a math whiz but lags behind in her reading.  She loves to read.  She asks me what the hard words are.  I tell her.  She keeps reading.

The 6 year old refused to learn to ride a bike without her training wheels on.  We begged her to try.  She did try.  She fell.  We put the training wheels back on.  Yesterday she wanted Daddy to take the wheels off again.  He did.  She fell.  She cried.  She said she would never be able to ride a two wheeler.  Today…. she got back on the bike.  Today…. she rode a two wheeler.  The pride in her eyes was almost too much to bear.  She did it.  She was so proud of herself.

Little things.  Things that might be overlooked.  Things that might be swept aside during a busy day.  But oh… how BIG they are to a child.  The day you take over and make your mother’s special deviled eggs.  The day you sit and read an entire book cover to cover.  The day you ride a bicycle without training wheels for the first time.  So important to them.

And one day, they won’t remember the day they made a meal or read a book or rode a bike.

But I will.  Always.