Benjamin remembered something this morning that kind of amazed me. He reminded me of a game we played when he was so, so young that somehow, in the midst of growing and more babies and soccer and school and lunches, we ceased to play.
I like to think I have a good memory. I remember details of youth and people's faces. I remember conversations from long ago and old music and where I was when I danced that dance. I remember smells and tastes and names of birds and their tra-la-las.
Sometimes though, I forget my children are still so young. I stress and grieve and hope and sometimes am saddened. I forget how time passes while I am so immersed in it's passing. I long for the next goal, the next month, the next project and in doing so, can't see the games we play that make our children laugh right now.
We played that game on the way to his preschool class. It wasn't quite the same as he's quicker and more sly than he was when he was small(er) but his belly giggle was the same. Him racing onward ahead of me, towards the door with a twinkle and a smile.