Three to Eighteen in a Day

I had the privilege of watching our neighbors on Wednesday, ages two and almost four. It was just for an hour after they were in day care all day and mom and dad weren't off work yet. The three-year-old explained to me that we were going to plant something because her mom told her that I am "a wonderful planter." Armed with two cups, some potting soil, grass seed and garden shovels, we went to work.

Now, since I'm in the thick of starting seedlings, I had it in my head that we were going to fill the cups with soil and plant grass in them so the kiddos could watch the grass grow in the coming weeks. Silly Tiffany. It turned out that the goal of the afternoon was to dig up a patch of daddy's lawn (which I've watched him tend to lovingly for the past few years), pour an abundance of seeds all over our hole and then fill it with water to jump in. The cups were to transport rocks from the patio to also fill the hole. The potting soil seems to have been intended as an exfoliating substance for our hands after immersing them in the puddle. It was an education.

Time was up and I came home to Josh, leaving their mom to get them cleaned up for dinner. Aren't I nice? I sat down at our dining table and stared out the window at our own back yard. I just couldn't find a patch that I would want dug up by our own kiddos. Thoughts of a boring, restricted life for our poor children flooded my mind as I considered the pros and cons of undoing the past four years of work creating our little backyard oasis. Then it dawned on us, a sand box! We have one spot left in our yard that could be enclosed by relocating our back fence. Yay! Problem solved! We would be good parents after all! (I am aware that they will want to play everywhere except the sandbox. They make locking gates for that. - just kidding.)

Thursday night we attended an event sponsored by the alumni association of my alma mater. It was to welcome newly accepted students and their parents to the university and to try to convince those who were still undecided to accept the invitation to attend. I was filled with the sense of pride and nerves in the room. The parents were mostly trying to figure out how to fund their child's impending educational expenses, but were beaming as they discussed their kids' success at getting accepted. The high school students were wondering about dorm life, what classes they should take to succeed and if it was really that cool to go to university in a town minutes from the beach and the mountains (duh).

Lately we've been so focused on what the first few years of our adventures into parenthood will look like that Thursday's event was an interesting take on a few steps down the road. Who knows if our kids will want to go to college, but at least we have seen that there is a time, later in life, after the midnight feedings, unending music lessons, arguments about appropriate attire and the beginnings of dating when they will begin to make their own decisions and it looks very exciting. There's a lot of work to be done between now and then, but we are hopeful to be sitting in an acceptance reception someday, shooting proud glances at our kids and watching them squirm with embarrassment as we brag about them to strangers.