Our family room was turning into a sea of red ribbon, rainbow colored wrapping and torn packages. Baby Stephen bounced up and down as he reached out for each carefully decorated treasure. His plump fingers wrestled with the tight-ly held wrapping. As each box was finally unraveled, the little fella, to our amazement, found more enjoyment examining and handling the colorful ribbons and crinkly material, letting the toys fall to the side in abandonment – the toys Santa had so carefully selected!
A whiff of roasting turkey reminded me that I had better get into the kitchen to prepare our belt-loosening meal. But I didn’t dare leave until our little “accident waiting to happen” was tucked away for his afternoon nap. My husband and older son would never forgive my desertion as they were attempting to assemble a two-wheel bike from a torn, spindled, and mutilated sheet of instructions.
He’s rubbing his eyes. Oh, good! “Nap time” I announced as I pried the little explorer away from his explorations. Stephen had never climbed out of his crib so I knew I would have a few hours of peace once the little fella was safe inside his bed. Carefully, I laid him in his crib and kissed his warm soft brow. His right thumb automatically found his mouth as his left hand rubbed the satiny smooth hem of his “night-night”. “This is it,” I smiled to myself, knowing Stephen’s ritual for going to sleep. I tip-toed out of the room and firmly closed the door behind me to keep big brother from disturbing the peace.
I hastened into the kitchen to attack my chores. The cauliflower was anxiously awaiting its de-leafing and bath in cold salted water. The cranberries invited me to boil them into creamy sauce. Then I spied the apples. Hmm, let’s start on dessert. “The first shall be last,” I mused. I had just sealed and fluted the apple pie when Stephen’s door began to rattle.
I whirled around ready to scold my older son for waking the baby when I saw the two heads in the family room looking down at the half-assembled bicycle.
Who on earth is in the room with Stephen? An image of a strange intruder raced through my mind. I stood frozen. I still had the apple pie in my hand. As I envisioned warding off a would-be kidnapper with an apple pie, the door stopped its clatter. It flew open. Our two-foot-high toddler came prancing down the hall. He stopped in the midst of the Christmas clutter. Forgotten was the pie, the bicycle, and the would-be intruder. All eyes were fixed on the proud performer’s exuberant expression. He threw up his tiny arms as if to say, “look at me, I climbed out of my crib all by myself.” But he was too little to say all this. He just sang out his two most memorable words, “Ta DA.”
An Ordinary Woman 