Our babysitter just texted me at work with this picture. She’s great with sharing all those little moments I miss on lazy Saturday’s. The message along with this picture was:
“I just asked her if she wanted mac and cheese and she said ‘hold on I need to work for a little bit’ and this is her right now lol”
Adorable for so many reasons and also an eye-opener. She is so obviously imitating me. I squeeze in writing time everywhere. I’m like a crazy person when I’m working on an idea. Usually if she is engrossed in her tablet singing and studying letters and watching videos about toys and surprise eggs (yes I know WTF?), then I’m sitting right next to her with my laptop pouring my guts out into coherent sentences. We are always together. I never want her to think I’m choosing a computer or phone over her. That actually upsets me a lot for this generation. She shows me what she’s watching and I show her what I’m typing.
Sometimes when she really wants to imitate me and go right to center of my heart, she pulls out her “computer” too. My friend Shari gave me this Elmo computer for her when she was really little. It belonged to her girls. It’s adorable. And now it’s Miriam’s way to be like mommy. She types on the keys and Elmo actually says BEEP BOOP BOOP and there are program cards that slide in to the screen. But Miriam knows the act of typing is “mommy working” and nothing makes me happier.
It just occurred to me recently that one day Miriam will be reading all of this. All my stories. And she won’t always be four years old. One day she’ll understand them and hopefully I’ll still be around to talk about everything she reads. But if I’m not, she’ll remember her mommy typing and playing. And playing and typing. Just like I remember my mom working on the adding machine late at night when she did the bookkeeping for my father’s gas station. Or her calling me to come lick the raw cake batter off the beaters of the mixer. Or when I would stand by her bed in the middle of the night and wake her for no reason. She always opened her eyes with a smile even though now I can understand how tired she must’ve been.
Miriam is watching me. She’s watching her daddy. She’s really watching. And I want to give her the best view I can.