I know we compete–nay, fight tooth and nail–for this title, but this past Sunday afternoon in my town, I held it for a brief but shining moment.
We had just arrived at the ginormous craft fair that descends upon our fairgrounds three times a year to entice us with unusual gift-giving ideas and things we didn’t know we needed. I have fun just looking around but the hubs gets a bit grumpy if he doesn’t buy anything (which is why we stayed away from the gourmet food area, where we have developed holes in our wallets before).
We parked on the gravel ‘n’ grass and proceeded to walk toward the path that ultimately leads to the event. We had taken no more than 15 steps in that direction when I realized that my youngest son Pumpkin was sprawled on the ground. At this point, a good mother would have tsked sympathetically, gently lifted up the fallen toddler, and checked for boo-boos.
But you must understand that my Pumpkin has a close relationship with the ground. The falling is expected with all the growing. So, upon seeing that my baby boy had gone horizontal, I immediately exclaimed, “Crap! Already??” as I went to shift him back onto his little feet.
I’m all about the nurturing, folks.