Seeing Stars

My favorite thing about spending a lot of time with young children is their amazing ability to see the ethereal in the mundane.

For example, I had the two-year-old up on her changing table when a ray of sunlight illuminated some dust particles floating in the air. Just as I was beginning to make a mental note about scheduling some much needed spring cleaning, she looked over at the tiny specks and said, “Little stars! Little stars are falling on me.” I swear some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth is impossibly sweet.

A few days later, Hank had his own moment of wonder while pulling apart a piece of string cheese. Now really, in my world, there is pretty much nothing more mundane than string cheese. I have, by the way, mixed feelings about string cheese. It’s a little too processed for my taste and the only kind my kids will eat is made by Kraft, which is not a corporation I patronize willingly. But I buy it anyway because it’s a favorite of my anti-refined sugar guru and in line with my efforts to feed my kids high protein snacks. Plus, they’re now making it without growth hormones, which makes it a little more palatable. There is, however, not much that brings me down worse than finding a piece of forgotten, half eaten, congealed string cheese on the floor. But I was totally touched when my boy looked down at one of his shreds and said, “Look, it’s a baby comet.” The kid’s been copping an attitude big time lately, and it was a relief to get back to some unadulterated sweetness for a change.

Ever since we settled down out here in the wilderness, I spend a lot of time pining for city life. But one thing I always missed during my glorious stints in a few fabulous cities was being able to see the stars. There’s nothing like getting home on a clear winter evening and looking up at Orion hanging there over our heads. Like certain aspects of parenthood, it never fails to take my breath away.