Lasts

I took Andrew out to breakfast this morning.  Just the two of us.  He chose the restaurant, a place where we all call each other by name, though Andrew is usually so shy he can barely utter "thank you" when the host brings him paper and a cup filled with crayons.

First, Andrew drew what he wanted to eat--oatmeal.  Then, what I wanted--pancakes.  Then he drew a truck.  He's driving and Daddy is throwing sausages out the top.

On the back of the page he first drew me, kicking my leg up.  Why?  Because it's summer!  Indeed.

Then, he drew himself in another truck pushing a train (right up against my waist, it appears).  And more sausages launching out of the top.  It's all about the action.  I love watching him draw, chattering on about it all the while.

Now we are home.  In under an hour we will go to the elementary school to pick up Valerie from her last day of third grade.  So, my days with just Andrew home with just me are soon over.  Today, this morning, is the last.  Ouch.  These transitions are hard.

And then the long summer.  Summer:  it seems like a good idea.  And I am trying to be proactive in my thinking about it, planning (though the best laid plans, they say...) to avoid the crazy.  Mostly, even on the craziest days when the kids are arguing and I am losing my mind, I will try to hold on to at least one precious tiny moment.

I will hold on dearly to the lasts.