“Where are we going?”
Captain Bravo is standing by the front door with all of us as we don our outdoor gear. There is the last minute morning bustle as we get ready:
“Have you seen my other glove?”
“Do you have your backpack?”
“Do you have your lunch?”
“Don’t forget your library books!”
While all the other questions float about, I know that his question is for me, and I bend down to help him with his mitten. I tell him we are on our way to drop off his dad and brother at work and school.
He smiles up at me. “It’s just you and me again.”
These days, Captain Bravo and I are pretty much inseparable.
We play games and watch Bubble Guppies and meet friends for playdates.
We build forts with blankets and pillows – and Mario and Luigi.
He is my resident artist – whose favourite mediums are markers and string.
He is my assistant mopper and my sous chef.
He keeps me company on errands.
Even though I try, he often asks me not to sing in the car. Then I usually don’t, because when I am quiet, sometimes I can hear him singing quietly in the back seat. I wouldn’t want to miss that.
He knows it won’t always be the two of us, hanging out. The other morning as we watched Captain Alpha walk towards the school, I heard him say, “I wish I could go to school and then you could be alone.”
I told him it would happen before he knew it. And though I tell myself it is a long time yet, I know it will seem too soon when that day does arrive.
I am enjoying these days of games and art and driving together. I love our conversations and lunch table set for two.
And I cherish the reminder that there is joy to be found in these quiet, simple days - and little things like getting to sit in the racing car shopping cart at the grocery store.