The Long Walk

There's a quarter mile between my kids and their bus stop. Much to their chagrin, we walk. Anyone who wants to complain about it gets treated to my lecture series: "Why This Is Good For Your Brain."

It also gives us time to work things out.

The day didn't start so well. It was one of those mornings where Princess took all my suggestions and ground them up in the garbage disposal. It was not one of those days where I could say, "oh well. Let's hug." It took one-eighth mile for me to be the one to say, ok, that's enough. Sniping at each other is not working.

While waiting for the bus, I hung out with her and cuddled her and told her how much I loved her and gave her really obnoxious smoochies, all of which she forcefully rejected. Mostly by stomping on my foot and trying to trip me. And then something new happened.

A spider ran up my arm. Not an actual arachnid, one that would cause me to do a weird arm-shaky dance, but Princess's hand. And she said, "look Mom, there's a spider running up your arm."

Honestly, it took me a minute to catch on. My initial internal response was that she was trying to annoy me. And then I thought,

wait. Is she being silly?

She was.

I am still struggling to be silly with her, but I did keep holding her in a casual hug, and we were both smiling when we hugged good-bye at the bus's arrival.

And then I had a quarter-mile to smile to myself.