I finally see through, to the child
Watch the firelight flicker beautifully over my polished furniture. Through the subtle aroma of dinner, the room holds a sweet scent of fragrant cleaners. The floor gleams, the dishes shine, the laundry sits folded and ironed in the closet.Skip to next paragraph
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But the plant dirt is still scattered haphazardly over the windowsill. Sometime tomorrow I will vacuum the brittle rocks out of my carpet. Tonight, though, I draw the curtains across the mess and bring my attention back to my relaxing surroundings. I'm enjoying a warm piece of blueberry pie. I'm comfortable in my softest pajamas, and I'm submerging myself in the sound of love and laughter.
I watched his antics all day long. With intrigue, weariness, and often horror, I observed him as he made his curious examination of the world around him.
This morning I smiled at his dawning awareness as he realized how to put his sandwich into his milk.
I carefully removed the scissors from his hands as he clumsily removed them from the table and attempted to imitate my maneuvers.
I sighed resignedly as he contributed to my efforts to sweep and dust, leaving a trail of toys and crumbs.
This afternoon my heart rate rose when I realized that he had learned to climb. With a broad smile and a childish giggle, he brought me an apple, his latest accomplishment, grasped from a destination far out of his reach.
Imagining the means by which he accomplished this feat, I squelched his pride with my concern.
Later, having found the flour tipped onto the floor, I took his hand and bodily removed him from the scene of the crime.
While I was busy disposing of the disaster, he was discovering the physics involved in pulling the bathroom tissue from the roll.
As I rolled it back on, he was feeding my lunch to the pet.
Then I saw him on the windowsill. He'd crawled up from the rocking chair; the dirt from the plant was sifting through his tiny fingers. I felt my patience finally reach its limits. Hair tied back and mop in hand, I heard myself speak his name in my harshest tone.
"What are you doing up there?" I yell, my fists trembling.
He looks at me with bewildered eyes, his mouth forming an uncertain "o."
"Why are you climbing up into the windowsill?"
A beam of light attracts his attention. A vehicle pulls into the driveway.
His innocent face breaks into a glorious smile, and he points out the window excitedly and claps his hands. In his happiest voice he calls, "Daddy!"
(c) Copyright 2000. The Christian Science Publishing Society