By the Foot

Parker...age 2

I was at the stove, cooking salmon patties, when Parker got home from track practice.  I knew something was wrong when instead of the usual smelly hug and "Hi, mom" he walked right past me saying, "Where is the hydrogen peroxide?"
There was an angry red gash across his knee where he and the hurdle had come to blows.
It's a testament to how grown-up he is that he wasn't crying or even limping.  Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that his friend Shawn (who, by the way, I'm going to claim on my taxes this year) had come home with Parker to spend the weekend.
Parker headed to my bathroom.
Shawn filled a plate and headed downstairs to watch tv. (I like to pretend I'm exasperated with all this company, but I'm secretly thrilled that my kids' friends feel comfortable enough to make themselves so at home.)
I took off my chef hat and put on my nurse hat and followed Parker.
Still wearing his track shorts and sweaty t shirt, he peeled off his shoes and socks and stood in my garden tub while I prepared to clean and dress his cut.
And then I had one of those moments.  You know...where time stops and you notice something that's been in front of your eyes for a long time, but which you have never SEEN before.
And I asked, "When did you get man-feet?"
Parker looked down and then at me.
"What do you mean?"
I meant that I was taking care of my little boy's scraped knee like I had a thousand times before...but suddenly there was a strange man standing in my tub.  I meant that they grow up in the spaces it takes you to blink.
But I said, "Your feet look like my brother's." (who is a handsomely grown-up man who flies airplanes for a living and of whom I am extremely proud).
And then the cut was clean and I discovered we were out of Band-aids and life was back to it's normal chaos.
Except for that slight shift in my universe that moves me closer to the truth that is life always moving forward.
One foot at a time.