It’s a beautiful summer afternoon and it’s hot. I’m sitting on a bench, waiting outside of a restaurant to be seated for dinner. Some of my family and friends are with me as well as the baby in my third trimester pregnant belly. The baby and I both want to eat and I’m getting anxious. I can’t wait to drink a cold glass of lemonade.
A toddler soon emerges from the front doors of the restaurant. I’m excited about this because I realize that the more people that leave, the sooner we’ll be able to eat. Additionally, though, I love to watch children and because I will soon have one of my own, I am much more observant of little one’s adventures than I ever have been before.
The child is obviously not a seasoned walker and his mother follows him closely. She is happy and weary from following a curious one year old around all day. I watch the boy as he plays in the small fountain outside of the restaurant. The mother, clutching a To Go Box in her hand, watches as her son splashes in the water. She only intercedes when he is getting a bit too adventurous.
Eventually the boy starts trying to eat the rocks and the mom grabs her son by the hand and they head home.
I sit from my bench and smile. “Soon that’ll be me,” I think. In a few minutes, we’re called inside to eat. I drink my lemonade and forget about the boy in the fountain. But, today, as the memory comes back to me, I can’t help but think the To Go Box mom should be me.
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