One morning on our walk to school, Remy and I were discussing books. I said that my favorite book of all time grown-up or kids’ book had to be Charlotte’s Web.
I mean it. I think it’s a pitch perfect story.
He replied, “Yeah, that’s a great book. I’d have to say, though, the best book is Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.”
We heart the Pigeon around here and Saskia, just-turned-three, is in the full throes of Kuh-nuffle Bunny obsession. She pores over the pages daily, on her own and shares in the read aloud—no prompting necessary—with special glee for “Snurp.”
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The obvious little gem to share here is that I feel so lucky to live in a house of book lovers (given the fact that their mama’s a writer and their papa’s an antiquarian book dealer, this is particularly fortunate for all). The let-me-tell-you gem is we’re going to see Knuffle Bunny onstage next Friday.
Plus in the cool beans department, I got to interview Mo Willems about the staged production. I’m telling you this because it’s a fun read.
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To bring this tiny snippet of writing (it seems blogger-ly to me, not so essay-ish) I have been thinking a great deal about the walking to school component of my life. This year, I have just one kid at the elementary school the older brothers also attended (and as it happens, finished). For many years, I had two kids there (we missed all three brothers at one school by a year). I wondered whether my second grader and I would tire of one another during the weeks and months of walking just the two of us. Because as it turns out, enough of our often-neighborhood-y walking partners graduated to change the tenor of our morning walking commute kind of dramatically. We used to have a spontaneous crowd if not daily, very regularly. Now, we tend to be a lone pair. We seem to be timely (well, more so) when the weather’s nice. This winter has had the effect of perhaps not inviting us outside at eight in the morning, so we stall, and arrive a little late most days.
As luck would have it, my eight year-old and I really, really like each other. We worry together about music or the requirement to wear snow pants in second grade; we rave about our favorite television program of the moment or favorite haunt in town. We’re cozy in our way, walking together (regardless of this seemingly endless winter). In the afternoons, he tells me about three good things that happened at school (gym and/or sports always make the list).
Some days, it’s really cold. Some days, it’s raining cats and dogs. Other than a few completely arctic days this very wintry winter, we never think about whether the weather’s acceptable for our commute. We dress appropriately and we go.
Often, one of the three good things that happens in my day is this time with Remy.
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I do try to engineer times when I’m on foot with just one child lest you think I don’t get what a gift this is and lavish it solely on one of my kids. Lucien and I head to the farmers’ markets and Ezekiel and I to the Pilates studio. I get Saskia at school midday on foot (in the carrier in cold weather, stroller when it’s warm). One-on-one time, especially perhaps when there are so many more than one child, is truly to savor. And it’s a gift, not always convenient to pull off but so worth it.
I’ve been working on some basics in my life these days, like sleeping more. When the weather warms up just a little bit and the days lengthen closer to seven-thirty, I’m going to try to pull my tween and teen into more after-dinner strolls. I’m imagining short ones, just a loop around the ‘hood. I am filing the resolution under three good things. I know it’ll be one, if we can just get ourselves out the door.
