Childhood.
A million moments put together that in one backward glance from adulthood can conjure up joy or sadness.
For me, it's joy, and with it a sentiment of feeling safe and secure and at peace.
Those moments aren't ever specifically important.
Riding bikes with my brother and pretending we were running errands, the gas station and grocery in various people's driveways--totally lame, but totally happy.
Those times I'd fall asleep at family gatherings and always hear the adults telling stories and laughing in the background, the smell of after-dinner coffee lingering in the air.
I was feeling sentimental this afternoon as I sat outside in the driveway with Reid in my lap and Will next to me, turning over rocks looking for doodlebugs.
Doodlebug. (n) 1. Official scientific name of the gray roly poly bugs that live under rocks in the garden as defined by the Kauffman household; 2. Term of endearment for children in the Kauffman household (ie; "Come here doodlebug!").
It was one of those moments I found myself going, "Remember this, remember this, remember this," because it was so unimportant in the history of moments and yet so significant at the same time.
I mentally dog-eared the page, to savor years from now when even mentioning the word "doodlebug" will invite crimson into my boys' faces. I'll come back to this page again and again and remember that girly-girl me, who has an obsession with high heels, perfume, and pink nail polish, sat on blacktop (where ants crawl-ew) to find slimy gray bugs (ew) in the mud (ew).
For the boys, it was just another day that I fed them mac-n-cheese, chased them around the gym, found the batteries to the remote so that Mickey Mouse's voice could project through the TV, did the hot dog dance, bounced them around, cuddled them up, and sat on the driveway to look for bugs.
But maybe one day when they look back on their childhood, those will be the moments out of millions that stand out for them; the moments that make them feel safe and secure, peaceful, warm, and happy.
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