Today, as my girls ran out the door headed to their school’s picture day, I breathed a sigh of relief. They were leaving happy, hopping on the bus. And I was waving goodbye, secure in the joy that, as my 5-year-old recently said, “I have great days every day!”
But today, my sigh of relief also came because, prior to the happy running, that cute little 5-year-old had been crumpled on the couch, her perfectly brushed hair now static-style under a blanket, sobbing. Sobbing because in her excitement to get ready, she dribbled a bit of toothpaste on her navy blue picture-day dress. I had taken her dress off, washed the toothpaste, and dried it in plenty of time for her to wear it. It had still caused her sadness because she had worked so hard to get ready without help.
Obviously, her sadness didn’t last too long, because she made it on the bus with a huge smile.
As I came inside, calmer and more ready for the day ahead, quick hands working to gather the dirty laundry and scrub the sink clean, I paused. I had opened the fridge to grab tea. Stuck to the front of the fridge door, one with a birdie magnet and one with a bottle opener, were two watercolor paintings. The paintings had obviously been made by my two littlest at some point this weekend. They paint often, but they usually hang their paintings to dry in the toy room or haphazardly draped across tables and chairs. Seeing their handiwork where I could not miss it, made me take stock of just how big these little joys are.
These little joys, their painting, their smiles, their climbing into my bed in the middle of the night sometimes, their tiny socks losing matches, even still. Their squeals and running into my arms as they hop off the bus each afternoon. I hope I hold these little joys close always.
And, I hope, just like our youngest, I have “great days every day” and keep my focus on the littlest joys.