There's the astounding paradox of having to slowly let go and hold on tight at the same time. I see my girls at gymnastics, hugging their newfound friend, heads turned in a circle, like a flock of birds chattering about the latest 6 year old news. I can't hear what they say, but I see their body language. It seems like they're comfortable, smiling easily, eager to be a part of a small, burgeoning friendship. I watch from the side where the parents line up, some engrossed in laptops, or books, or conversations. This has been me many times. But I'm glad I get to watch my girls tonight. Allie's arms are stronger than I thought as she wrestles the rope to climb up, inch - slip - struggle - slip - inch.
I want to suspend time, I can't suspend time. I want them to stay small, but my whole objective is to raise them so they can be happy adults.
I have a feeling that much of my role will be smiling from the sideline. "Are you watching??" Allie calls to me as she runs to the drinking fountain.
Am I watching? Oh my gosh, yes. I am wat
