A Moment

"This isn't an emergency, but-"

"I'll be right there."

I need to stop interrupting the receptionist at Sprite's daycare and let her finish what she needs to say. This could help determine how messed up my day truly needs to get and keep the receptionist from getting pissy with parents like me. (...Nah.)

I quickly find out that ants had used the heavy rains to invade the one year old playground and wreak havoc on the jungle gym. (And making a perfect example of the song, "The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah...")

Toddlers were bitten. Sprite was found to be particularly sweet and palatable.

I'm expected to stop by the school and just check her out to make sure she's not having any reactions. (Because the word "Mommy" must be the "M" in "MD", right?)

I think about this. My day is full. Too full.

It should only take a moment, I rationalize as I quickly move my schedule around to allow for 20 minutes so I can get in, get out, and get on with my day.

I plan my route to stop by at 10:30 as lunch is beginning so she'll be distracted and I can quickly get back to my busy day. Little do I know that 10:30 needs to have "-ish" attached to it.

"Oh, perfect. You're here. They're just finishing up in the lunch room," the receptionist says as I walk in.

I smile and look at my phone. Nope. 10:30. Did they jump the clock?

I walk into the lunch room and see Sprite getting ravioli pieces yanked from her hair as she sits in her seat. "Mommy!" she exclaims, seeing me and waving.

"Hey, babe!" I steer around the tiny tables and give her a small kiss while the teacher finishes cleaning her up.

"Sprite's left leg was covered in ants," the teacher explains, pointing out the red marks on Sprite's lower leg. I examine the area, tsk over the slightly swelling spots, deem it acceptable to survive the rest of the day while in daycare's clutches, and try to gracefully disappear.

Not so fast.

Sprite's hand immediately grabs mine. "Come!" she exclaims and leads me to the door which goes out. She thinks she's going home, I conclude. Silly child..

"No, no, honey," I respond, steering her away from freedom and toward the one year old room. "Let's go here." I'll just escort her in, I think, it should only take a moment.

I open the door and see the darkened room is already decked out in mats and blankets, ready for full bellied toddlers to tumble down and give the teachers a break.

Sprite leads the way to her mat and blanket and pulls me down to sit with her.

I'm trapped. There's no easy way to get out of here as the rest of the woozy tots clamber in and collapse on their respective real estate. (How much did Sprite pay to score a spot by the window?)

Now resigned to helping Sprite settle down, I stretch out a bit. Seeing me get comfortable makes Sprite more at ease knowing Mommy's not going anywhere. She lays down and starts to play with my left hand as my right hand carresses her cheeks and hair. Her eyes start to close and open a little more slowly every time she tries to come back from that point of limbo, sleep one moment away.

My mind starts to drift as I keep the pattern going, my fingers combing through her soft curling hair, occasionally running into small bits of her lunch. (Memo to self, the kid gets a good scrubbing tonight.)

Her eyes are now closed, but her fingers are still moving, playing with my engagement ring and stroking down my fingers in her own pattern.

At this moment, I should be thinking of the unfinished work I have waiting for me at the office. At this moment, I should be making mental notes of the calls I need to return. But, at this moment, all I can do is focus on her fingers slowly stroking mine, all I can do is stare at her peaceful face as her chest slows down and she draws deeper breaths.

All I can do is think about how, at this moment, there is nowhere else in this entire world I would rather be.

Her fingers are now still. She's asleep. I suppress the urge to peck her cheek and slowly, quietly arise to leave.

I slip out of the room and go back to my day where all of the piling paperwork and waiting phone calls suddenly aren't so important anymore.

And it only took a moment for me to remember what truly is.

Comments

[Kirsten]

Hope Sprites ant bites get better soon. Very cute!

[Kirsten]

Hope Sprites ant bites get better soon. Very cute!

[Lisa]

What a beautiful post. I am in tears and preparing to leave this computer and go right back to my baby who is now asleep too and curled up in my bed where he crashed. Beautiful post.

You are a great writer.

Booohooo!

[andrea frazer]

Ahhhh...

[Sprite's Keeper]

It's usually when she's sleeping that I want to squish her the most! Would you believe I still have that stupid Ants song in my head?
Oh and thanks, Kirsten, Sprite's legs are doing much better. She scratched at them a bit, but she's starting to ignore them so they're starting to heal.