Lillian: I’m going swimming in a princess lake with whales that wear crowns and dolphins with no teeth.

Henry (eager to join in on the fantasy): Can I come swimming with you?

Lillian: Yes. But your lake has sharks.

This morning Richard and I watched in silent wonder as Lillian played with her menagerie of horses and pretty ponies. They traveled from her room tucked securely in her pink baby stroller. She arranged them ever-so carefully on the table in the living room. Introducing each horse by parading it past the others until it found its designated spot in her elaborate display.

There was some conversation between the horses. But we couldn’t hear clearly enough to understand. We didn’t want to interrupt or be discovered. So we just observed her living in her own imaginary world.

Then, after a few moments, my dear spouse turned to me and said, “That’s beautiful. She’s amazing.” Then ended it with a sigh and a sobering completely male where’s-the-practicality-in-what-I-am-witnessing: “What is to become of her?”

This is my view in the shower. It’s pretty much been my view for 17 years and will continue to be for another 8 or nine. And boy do I feel blessed.

A view from the top

Richard and I attended Helen’s high school freshman orientation with a babe in arms. Lilian was just a month old. We sat there and realized that we would be attending high-school related events for the better part of the next 18 years. It made us chuckle. Little did we know then that our sentence would be extended another three years, and that just shy of 21 years from that date, we’ll be attending our dear Cliff’s graduation (God willing).

I will admit, that sometimes all the baby toys and baby-related paraphernalia gets a little daunting. I counted the days for Cliff to stop enjoying his swing so I could ditch that darn thing. I’ve been in the position three times where I’ve given away most all the baby goods, only to jump for joy when I was blessed with the need to bring it all back in. As the baby approaches a year, the big things are starting to disappear: the walker, the exersaucer, the bouncy seats and jumpy things.

But one thing that has not really changed in our nearly 18-years of parenting is that view in the tub. We’ve always had bath toys. That phase has never ceased between children, even with their age spread. Of course, the toys aren’t always on the floor but are within reach, patiently waiting for their moment in the tub. Henry is eight, and although he frequently showers, there’s nothing like a long bath with play time. I love listening to the noises (mostly torpedoes and bombs) as the bath water becomes the sea.

I know that in no time, we won’t be nagging Helen awake in the morning for school, Mary Claire won’t so willingly join in to play with Lillian, and (this is scary) Henry and Clifford will shave.

As I get older, I am becoming much more aware of how quickly these years of parenting have flown. I just hope I can always remember to enjoy this view from the top.

The view from the top can be oh so very lonely
and you can be missing such a lot that could be yours

–Cat Stevens.