Love Her Forever

Yesterday morning, the kids were playing around in the living room. In an attempt to keep them out of trouble so that I could drink my morning coffee in (relative) peace, we put on the TV and asked them what they'd like to watch. As Murray was surfing through Netflix, he came across something called The Gift of Munsch.

From what we could gather, it was a video of Robert Munsch reading some of his stories. Considering that Gavin kept asking for "Chi-hu-wa-wa" - I'm guessing it was the icon for Beverly Hills Chihuahua - he was not very impressed with his dad's selection. Then Robert Munsch started talking to a dragon and Gavin sat quietly, watching.

We like Robert Munsch's stories in our house, but the one that's been read seventy-five million times more than any other is, of course, Love You Forever. Earlier this year, I posted the following Facebook status:

"So Gavin says to me, "When I grow up to be a big boy, I'll still be your baby, right Mom?" Of course I said yes, but if he expects me to drive across town in my truck with a ladder and climb up into his room and rock him back and forth, back and forth, even after he's grown up and moved away, well....he'll be disappointed."

All of my girlfriends were like, "How can you get through that book without crying?" The lone male friend to comment had a much different take:

CREEPIEST BOOK EVER

I'll admit that I think the book is pretty touching. Not the stalker-like part, but I tear-up at the part where the boy stands "for a long time" at the top of the stairs. In my mind, I imagine him thinking about his relationship with his mother and how for all those years when she was there for him, now he has to be there for her. Then again, maybe that's not at all what the boy was thinking about. Maybe he was just tired after walking up all those stairs and needed to catch his breath. I don't know. I hope that while I'm getting old(er), the day when my kids will be taking care of me is still a long way off.

But when Robert Munsch and the dragon were reading this story through our TV yesterday, something happened that reminded me just how fleeting these days are. Murray picked up Mia and rocked her - in an exaggerated way - singing the song from the book. She laughed, but all the time protested, "I'm not a baby! I'm not a baby!"

And I realized that she was right. She's at that awkward sort of age where she's not really a toddler, but not old enough for preschool either. She's almost potty-trained. She feeds herself. She can wash her own hair in the bathroom sink with the hand soap. She's fiercely independent, wanting to pick out her outfits in the morning and sitting on the potty without telling me and trying to dump stuff in the toilet by herself, not always successfully.  No. She's most definitely not a baby.

I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. 

Then last night, Mia let me know in her own way that she's not quite ready for it either. I was getting her ready for bed and we had finished reading her bedtime stories. She was restless and said to me in a quiet voice, "Mommy, rock me," and pointed to the rocking chair that still makes its home in a corner of her room. 

So I picked her up, and rocked her back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

You can guess what song I sang.

My "baby" learning to ride her scooter.