The Difference is in the Extra Mom
I have a pantry closet in the breakfast room, that our 1 year old ZM loves to visit. She likes to clear off the bottom shelf, most likely because it is the right level for her to reach everything. She takes the paper towels and the tissues and carries them to some other part of the house. When she gets to the Ritz crackers she shakes the box at me until I get her one, and when she gets to the chocolate Cheerios she helps herself. If I don't get to her quickly enough she turns the box over and dumps them on the floor. So I though it prudent to merely keep the door closed.
The closed door did not thwart the ZM. Nope. Finding it not ajar, she stretched herself until her hand was on the doorknob. Either she did not know to turn it, or her hand is still too small to manage it. Denied access she tried another tactic.
She stood nose to door, curled up her left fist, and ever so softly, but insistently, knocked on the wooden door.
You know I opened that door for her.
When I told the story to her Mom, she said that the difference between us is that she wouldn't have opened the door.
When I was Mom I wouldn't have opened the door either. But Mom Mom's heart apparently melts at a much lower degree of cute.
I have told this story to lots of people now. When I get to the part about her knocking on the door, all the grandmoms say "awwwww". All the Mom's jump in with horror stories about food stains on furniture and rugs.
The Magic Dollar
When you work in retail you are provided with a front row seat to the best and the worst in human interaction. Parent-child relations are no exception. I have seen things that made me angry, made me sad, and made me worry for the future. And then I saw this:
Yesterday, a father and son were in the checkout line at the store. The boy was about 3, and had a mop of blond curls and an angelic face. He was captivated by the crane machine that stands in the front of the store. The father said that if the boy was good and patient while they finished the shopping he could have a try at winning a stuffed toy. Not another word was said until the father had his receipt and change in his hand. Making good on the deal he walked the little boy to the crane machine. With a bit of a flourish he pulled a dollar bill from his pocket.
"See this?" he said to the boy. "This is a magic dollar. Because whether you win or not, you will have fun playing"
I think the machine give you two tries for a dollar. As far as I am concerned it is full of dust collectors, and I have been known to tell small children who cannot yet read that it is out of order so they stop badgering their parents for money.
They put the dollar in and pressed start. The Dad offered advice and encouragement, but let the boy work the crane and push the button. Two tries , but no toy came tumbling out of the chute.
"Did you have fun?" the father asked. The boy nodded enthusiastically and skipped out holding his father's hand.
All of us who bore witness voted it the best moment of the day.