Mommy, draw hopscotch!” I think Bella learned about hopscotch from watchingMax & Ruby. I never really knew the right way to play. I always just hopped along, 1 foot-2 feet-1 foot-1 foot-2 feet-and back. But Bella picks up on everything. After I drew her hopscotch with the giant sidewalk chalk she got for her birthday, she asked “mommy, where’s my rock?” No rock in sight, I handed her a piece of chalk that had broken off. She threw it on the hopscotch board and hopped around, giggling the whole time.
Next she wanted to draw shapes and numbers: “Mommy, draw number three. Draw a circle, mommy!” I draw everything she wants, and then ask her what number I’m pointing at, or what shape I just drew. She knows all her shapes, and most of her numbers. She is so smart. Then I ask her to draw for me. She has some trouble, and I want to help her badly- I want to just do it for her. But I always step back and just watch. I want her to learn and be able to do it on her own. I want her to be independent and never have to rely on anybody. Maybe it’s a deep thought for a day of drawing with sidewalk chalk, but this is where she learns.
King watches us from his walker in the living room. Soon it will be the two of them out here drawing shapes and numbers while I sit and watch.
I love seeing my kids grow up. Babies are cute, but I’m not much of a fan of the first couple of months. I love when the personality begins to develop. I love when they figure things out. I love the milestones.
I feed King rice cereal while Bella plays outside without me. She’s a big girl now, and doesn’t need me out there with her. She knows the boundaries and stays within them. She periodically comes in to check on me and laugh at her brother. She runs and picks the dandelions and blows the seeds away like I showed her. She picks little flowers and gives them to me as a gift “here you go mommy, pretty flower!” She plays “he loves me, he loves me not” and then sprinkles all the petals in her hair.
She swings on the trees, and runs in the grass, and gets dirt under her fingernails and doesn’t care that she’s a mess because it’s fun. I make a mental note to myself that messy=fun, and think about rolling around in the dirt with her. But my shorts are white, so I keep watching instead.
When it’s time to make lunch, she drags a chair to the kitchen counters and uses it as a step stool so she can watch everything. Learn everything.
“Mommy, what you doing? You making dinner?”
“You making lunch?”
“Yep baby, I’m making lunch.”
“Mommy, I do it.”
She wants to do everything like me, and I so desperately want to be like her. To laugh at everything. To fall in love with everything. To be satisfied by peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sidewalk chalk.