04 February 2013

The Year Was 2005

The year was 2005. I lived in town, and I didn’t have a clue that B would be asking me to marry him a few months later. I'd been out of college for four years and in the rent house for one. Life was good, easy, and full of sleep. (Everything relates back to sleep once you've had a baby and stop actually sleeping.)

And this boy.

This boy was almost 2-years-old.

Little did I know on this day of sprinkler play that over 7 years later, he would be sitting on my living room floor, out in the country, playing princess puzzles with my very own baby girl.

He’s so grown now. Such a BOY. He and his daddy have been coming out to the house lately to hunt deer, practice shooting, and to work on a deer blind they’re building with B.

Of course, Katie states with all excitement and assurance that “they’re building Tangled’s tower!”

I’ve tried telling her that the girl’s name is Rapunzel, not Tangled. Tangled is just the name of the movie, but sister’s not listening. The long-haired blond is Tangled, forevermore.

Anyway, it makes me happy to see them playing together. He’s the sweetest thing to her…he caters to her and is kind to her and ever-patient. He tells her how smart she is and even told her “not to touch this leather thing on my belt, because it’s a knife sheath! Knives are not for little girls.”

Thanks for drawing her attention to it.

But who can blame him? He’s just basking in the glow of all these new manly abilities to hunt and shoot and fish and smell bad. Kind of reminds me of when I started toting around one of my first purses – it was pink, of the HOT variety – and it had this little embroidered strip of flowers across it. It was flat and rectangular, and I can still feel it in my hands.

I’d schlep it to Grandma and Grandpa’s house every day during the summer, with all the necessities. One day in particular, I remember packing a Fred Flintstone Maze & Puzzle Book and an orange.

Like a navel orange from the grocery store.

I bet I was warning everyone: Careful around my purse. There are girly necessities inside. Like produce and word finds.

All this to say that I can't believe how fast time is passing. Kids are great - or is it horrible? - markers of time. I would have never noticed the passage of seven years before. But when you can see these small people growing and changing, so fast, right before your eyes? You can't ignore the seven years anymore.

And let me also say that I feel absolutely ridiculous typing "kids," because I still feel like one. I don't feel that I've been authorized for Adulthood yet. Maybe when I start having a hankering for S.A.S. shoes and supper at 4:30 in the afternoon....

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