Scraps

I’ve been clearing off my desk (yes, again) and keep coming up with notes for blog posts jotted down on scraps of paper. They say things like:

  • Family walk to school, singing “Found a Peanut” over and over because it never ends, which delights and fascinates Isaac. “Sing louder, Mama!” And I do, as he trudges along, holding onto the empty stroller.
  • Rowan asks, “Want to read together, Mom?” And so we do, tucked up in his bed, him with Junie B. Jones and me with Gender Outlaws. I could spend weeks like this.
  • Isaac calls tsunamis “salamis.”
  • Walking with Rowan to school in the middle of a freak April snowfall: one more winter wonderland walk with my boy, snowflakes caught on his eyelashes.
  • Isaac attacking Rowan, trying to get him to suck his thumbs. Rowan laughing and laughing.
  • Painting Isaac’s toenails in stripes, listening to him giggle as I wind strips of toilet paper between his toes in order to keep them separate. He’s inherited the “Goldberg hammertoe,” wherein the fourth toe bends sideways behind the middle toe. Bad for pedicures.

  • Training wheels training wheels
  • A month-long reprieve from illness. Now I’m coughing, rattling around the house jonesing for Fishermen’s Friends like Nurse Jackie, hiding drugs in old Easter eggs and mittens: please be there!
  • Isaac brings me my rings, helps set the table and then remarks, when I thank him, “You grew a very helpful baby, didn’t you, Mama?” Yes I did, sweetie. Yes I did.