Walking down the street at noon each day, on my way to pick up Middle Girl at Kindergarten, I have a warm fuzzy feeling. I can't wait to see her! Walking along, thinking about how she'll see me at the classroom door, and come running to me with a huge smile because she had a fun day at school, and how I'll hear all about it as we walk back home. I walk hand in hand with The Boy, while he tells me that he can't wait to turn four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, but then stops and looks up at me and says, "but WHY do I have to be twelve? I don't like all of those numbers. I just want to be ten." And I say, "Okay, then you can!" as I chuckle to myself and continue thinking of Middle Girl, and now we're getting very close to seeing her!
And then, when I get there, and the classroom door opens, I see her waiting with her bright hopeful eyes looking for me. Then she hurries out to where I am standing... and...
whines. "Mommy, I want to have a playdate right now." "Mommy, I don't want to have a rest today." "Mommy, I'm hungry." "Mommy, I'm upset because so-and-so and so-and-so are having a playdate." "Mommy, school is boooorrriiiing." "Mommy, it's hot."
And then, the next day, as I walk to pick her up at noon, I find myself smiling as I look forward to seeing her and hearing her tell me how much fun she had at school.
Beyond all reason, I guess I am a Mothering Optimist.