“NO! He’s touching it! He’s touching it!” She shrieks.
“What?”
“That!”
“I’m not in the room I can’t see. You need to say what that is.”
“That! That!”
“What?”
“My grocery cart.”
I go to look. He’s across the room from Sophia and the cart. Lukas isn’t even heading in that direction. He’s looking at her, confused by the shrieking. I walk away.
That mom moment in time is brought to you by Van Morrison and Lays Potato Chips, “There will be days you wish you’d stopped at one” and by the number Two.
The same day, moments later, I turn on Dinosaur Train for Sophia and tell her I’m going to take a shower. I take Lukas up to the bathroom with me. I bring some of his toys and a baby gate. Set him all up I leave the bathroom door open, and put the baby gate up in the doorway incase Sophia needs something I don’t have to worry about her leaving the bathroom door open for Lukas to discover the joys of gravity rolling him down a flight of stairs.
I turn on the water and wait for it to warm up. Lukas happily plays with his toys. I enter the shower, close the door and Lukas spontaneously erupts into tears because I’ve vanished into thin yet somewhat humid air. Forget it. It’s been three days. I need a shower. Seriously.
Then I hear Sophia. She can’t open the baby gate, but I could hear her either try to open it or lean on it. “It’s ok Lukas. It’s ok.” She says. My four-year-old came all the way upstairs while one of her favorite shows was playing downstairs just to try to calm her brother. He was quiet for a moment. He started up again, I assume, when she left to watch her show again. It didn’t work, but it was an effort much appreciated.
And now I’m tearing up just writing about it. OHGODDAMNIT! Do you know how hard it is to see this screen through tears?
