In the kitchen, the water was boiling and it was time to start the cooking. I stepped over to the counter, where my hands were working on auto-pilot. I picked up a box, ripped open the top and poured in the noodles. ‘One more box,’ I thought, ‘and this is it. We’ll be ready to go and I can cook the --’ The sound came upon me like a freight train. I spun around and stared as my son threw his body against the biggest toy dump truck I’ve ever seen! He came toward me at full-speed and gained on me faster and faster as he used his 5-year-old body to create as much momentum as possible…
He raced along on his truck, then quickly stopped…his head an inch from the oven door. Somehow, my legs moved well enough to take me out of his path, and kept me from being plowed into the oven. My admonishment speech came tumbling out in one long word, and he looked up at me and grinned in a very toothy way.
“Be careful with your head,” I said again. I tried to sound stern and in control of my faculties this time.
He carefully answered that he will make sure he doesn’t hurt his metal and reiterated to me about his newly-discovered robot identity. I had forgotten about that and the power of invincibility that a robot has. Oops! A mother shouldn’t forget a thing like that! I quickly nodded and then told him that I don’t want to see any dents in the nice, smooth metal on top of his robot head.
Our kids are not quiet kids and they have energy that would qualify them for many categories of the Olympics. It may earn them fame and money someday, but for now, we channel it. Their vocal capacities are also strengthened as they voice their opinions to us. Joseph is very specific and has very logical reasons for the things he wants to do. Esther is still a bit unintelligible, but we do understand that she is one who likes to do things her own way. We concede when we can and stop it when it goes beyond our boundaries. Their opinions will serve them well someday.
I especially love to hear my children interact…
During the day, I hear many things; prattling and talking, screaming and yelling. And, oftentimes, it all blurs together in a stream of music that at one moment carries a haunting tone throughout the house and in the next instant accelerates into a dramatic theme that warrants immediate investigation. I often reason to myself that it is good to hear such sound in the house. It proves that there is life here, and emotion. But there are the times when the music flows and ebbs throughout the day like water. And this water tinkles like bells, and I hear in it a gentle sighing in the wind. No matter what songs are played here, these are all treasured days.
In the hushed beginnings of sleep and dreams, I watch the children and marvel in the music they make and the silence that ensues before the next morning's great symphony.
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