Our weekday mornings ’round here are pretty typical: I am up first, checking email and pouring milk, and the kids eventually make their way downstairs and get themselves situated with breakfast, and finally Otto emerges from the shower and joins them at the table while I finish up packing lunches.
The kids and I will often chat about various minutiae while this is going on, and then Otto will either join in or read the paper, depending on how awake he’s feeling.
It’s not a bad way to start a day, all in all. I mean, sure, about 20% of the time the children end up having some sort of squabble (see: Yesterday, also known as “the day my son decided my daughter was hiding a book from him just to be spiteful,” or “the day I couldn’t figure out if my daughter was hiding a book from my son just to be spiteful,” or “the morning both children ended up crying over a book that is probably jammed in the sofa cushions”), but most of the time it works out fine.
More often than not, at some point Otto will say to me—after his cereal, but before he gathers up his things and leaves with the kids—“What’s on your schedule for today?”
I find this endearing, because most of the time my schedule is: Sit at desk. Work. Get up and get some food. Sit back at desk. Work some more. Consider showering. Work. Realize the kids are about to get home. Shower. Work. Greet children. Referee homework and play taxi driver.
My schedule isn’t very varied, is my point. But I think it’s cute that he asks.
This morning Otto asked what’s on my schedule and I said, “Well! This morning I get to go see the doctor!”
(I am soooo lucky!)
And Chickadee, who’d been eating cereal and reading a book, looked up and said, “What? What kind of doctor?”
“I have an appointment at the gynecologist today for a check-up,” I told her. And as my darling daughter had just recently been telling me that she clearly remembers the time I took the kids with me to the gynecologist, she was moved to crack a huge grin and declare:
“Hooray! Mama’s gonna get her boobs squeezed!”
Yes. That’s JUST what I thought when I noticed the appointment on my calendar. First, you know, the utter joy of the boob-squeezing and other probing. And second, how thrilling that would be to my kid. Obviously.