“It’s a
baby tiger! Cheer, cheer.” The sizzle of chicken in a hot pan. The occasional bark of the dog. “Mommy, its Christmas. Not real Christmas, fake Christmas.” Sounds of dinner.
It has been weeks since I’ve made dinner at home. Stress.
It has gobbled me whole and has yet to release me. I spend most of my “free” time grading, thinking
about what I should be grading or feeling guilty that I’m not grading. The next two weeks will be full of
grading. The end of trimester coupled
with spring conferences have mixed to create the perfect storm, one that I wish
I could just sleep through. Back to dinner. S and E happily played while I cooked. It was Christmas. Then it was Papa’s birthday. Then the dollhouse people were on a trip in a late 80s wood grain paneled minivan, scaling high mountains of silver stainless steel. (The dolls from a more recent time had hitched a ride on the back of a GIANT green John Deere tractor.) Their imaginations at work. It was awesome to listen to their stories, much of which I was trying to remember.
Days like today remind me of how grateful and blessed I am to have a soundtrack of three year olds to listen to while I cook.
