Maggie is in Chicago with my parents. She is having a ball. She is the center of attention. She rode the ferris wheel at Navy Pier, visited the pirate ship at the Field Museum, ventured downtown. Add in a daily dose of playing with the cats each day, riding her new Plasma car and asking questions. I am not there, but I know she is asking questions. She has been very busy.
We are here. Resting, sleeping, playing. Doing things quietly. Slowly.
I had worried that Nick would be lost without Maggie. He is not lost. He misses her, no doubt. But he is enjoying being the pretend-only-child. We can move at his pace and solely at his pace. I haven’t had to ask him to hurry at all.
We sit down to dinner and everyone digs in. There is no discussion of how many bites are required. No hand flying up in the air to say I will not eat that. (That hand is flying up in the air in Chicago saying I will not eat that.) Nick just asks for more of everything. More broccoli, more watermelon, more cucumber.
And he sings and talks all day long. Actually, not all day. Part of the day. The rest of the time is blissfully quiet.
I feel very lucky to have both of my children. I feel lucky to have this special time alone with the child I rarely get to be alone with. I am so glad Maggie can have this time with her grandparents, and them with her. But I’m looking forward to getting to wrap my arms around her again and whisper in her ear how much I love her.