It's late afternoon/early evening. Scarlett starts to get a little grumpy around this time, so I like to distract her by taking her outside. The front porch is covered, so it provides a little relief from the summer heat. We swing together on the porch swing, singing some songs in between listening to all the sounds outside. "Do you hear the train? I hear some doggies barking. Does that breeze feel good?" Scarlett is wide eyed and takes everything in. Her gaze is fixed on the swaying branches of a tree, its leaves quivering in the wind. Above us the sky is blue, but dark clouds loom just ahead. Low and persistent rumbling enters our lesson in sounds. "Do you hear that thunder, Scarlett?" Lightning flashes in the distance. "I think a storm is coming, baby."
As we watch it roll in, I flashback to a childhood memory: I'm 8 or 9 years old sitting with my mom on the porch swing of our "blue house" in Simpsonville, and we're watching a summer thunderstorm together. I remember thinking, "This is kinda cool." Maybe this is when thunderstorms stopped being scary and started being a strangely serene experience. It's ironic that something so powerful and threatening can be so relaxing.
Now I flash ahead to a little daydream of Scarlett a few years older swinging with me as we watch another summer storm together. I imagine her asking me lots of questions about anything and everything. Maybe she'll still like to sing songs. I kiss her head just like I do now.
However, at the present time, as curious as she is about the world, I don't think Scarlett would find a storm quite as calming just yet. The wind picks up and I tell her I guess it's time to go inside. "But I think we have time for one more song..."
As we watch it roll in, I flashback to a childhood memory: I'm 8 or 9 years old sitting with my mom on the porch swing of our "blue house" in Simpsonville, and we're watching a summer thunderstorm together. I remember thinking, "This is kinda cool." Maybe this is when thunderstorms stopped being scary and started being a strangely serene experience. It's ironic that something so powerful and threatening can be so relaxing.
Now I flash ahead to a little daydream of Scarlett a few years older swinging with me as we watch another summer storm together. I imagine her asking me lots of questions about anything and everything. Maybe she'll still like to sing songs. I kiss her head just like I do now.
However, at the present time, as curious as she is about the world, I don't think Scarlett would find a storm quite as calming just yet. The wind picks up and I tell her I guess it's time to go inside. "But I think we have time for one more song..."
Little times like that are part of the great reward of being a mom. <3
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