Watermelon

To properly open a watermelon take a two-year-old and place watermelon loosely in their dirty little hands. Allow them to give the watermelon a swift tug. When the rolling and shattering phase is accomplished the other two-year-olds may proceed to enjoy.

This is that point in the day when tired me thinks "awww man"and practical me thinks "we can still eat this right?" But with my husband in mid-scold and me trying to create a baby-watermelon perimeter, we missed, for just a second, the startled look of panic on Bella's face. It wasn't lost on Ava who wrapped both arms around her sister and said, "are you okay 'ister? It's okay. It's okay."

Kids have a way of reminding us of our priorities. Their sticky little faces scream, sometimes literally, "I'm important." In everything that they do they remind us to simplify our lives and enjoy the moment. Sure they can be frustrating, they're half a person trying to assert their independence over every breakable object in your life including each other. They use every crazy childhood event that frustrates your life to proclaim the value of their own.

Cami reminded me of the watermelon incident when she began proclaiming the value of things. "I'm special to you. That's why you miss me." All her toys are either "my favorite," "so special to me mommy," or "I need it, I love it so much." This makes it harder to share since everything has a complex back story involving the occasional fictional character and lavish events that I must have missed.

Ava and Bella are much more casual about valuing everyday life.
Ava: "Hi Bella."
Bella: "Hi Ava."
Ava: "Are you okay?"
Bella: "Yea, I okay. Are you okay?"
Ava: "It's okay."
At this point life has been found to be acceptable and they hug or run off together holding hands.

It's those moments in life that give them the opportunity to take stock of each other and carry on to enjoy the messy fun that is their life. They're not going to look back at their childhood and think "I'm just delighted you made me such an elaborate lunch everyday. The flavor and diversity really rounded me out as a person." They'll remember that heart pancakes, even from a mix, mean 'i love you.' That even at breakfast I occasionally use frosting to draw faces on their food. They'll remember when we only had two coloring books with dinosaur pictures and three girls so we had to make our own.

We won't have the same memories of their childhood that they have. We'll remember saving for a special toy and they'll remember that all three of them fit in the box and that they took turns holding the flashlight and eating crackers in their special holiday box. They don't remember the amazing chicken parmesan I made, but whether I let them have noodles shaped like bows, flowers, or caterpillars.


Their expectations are so much simpler than ours. Our lives are so much simpler than we make them. Of course I still let my kids experiment with the produce, they give the houseplants a good snuggle some evenings, and we often have an extra plate at the table for a beloved, stuffed friend, but we enjoy our lives and more importantly they enjoy our lives as a family.