July 10, 2008
Slowing down our morning routine of rushing to the car, rushing to day care and rushing to work, my son and I slowed down to blow bubbles, and stop for donuts and coffee. The parking lot of 7-11 is typically a nightmare I ignore from my vantage point of the main street. Cars etch their way out hoping a motorist will take pity on them and let them out. Some days I do, some days I don’t. Today we eased in to a parking spot, I slid on his shoes and my 3 year old grabbed my hand chattering about his soon-to-come sugar dripping treat. Noah decided on a cinnamon coated donut. Picturing myself vacuuming brown sugar from my cloth interior weeks later, he ended up with a glazed donut.
“You have a beautiful mother,” a man in summer clothes, something noticed from my peripheral vision as I bent to hear Noah’s question.
“Mommy, did you hear what the scary monster said?” He asked, in his clear, concerned three-year old voice.
I have three children and yet I am always surprised by the things they manage to say that surprise me. I could ignore the question, and Noah fearing my loss of hearing, would say, repeat his question in his outside voice. So, I acknowledged it, without laughing, and said, “Yes, I heard what he said.”
Most days I would turn to the offended person and give a weak smile, a feeble look, a reassurance, he is a child after all, the look would say. But today I ignored the man. How rude, I had thought when the man spoke to my son. Perhaps manners are the things knights are made of