Kids on the swings pumping their legs back and forth. Oliver yells “Becca! Look at me! I’m swinging up high!”
Luke calls out “Watch this!” and tosses his stuffed animal onto the slide and watches it spiral down.
Jonathan sits with his head in his hands because he’s immune, but I just watch. These are the last summers of childhood before they become tweens and teens.
Stuffed animals won’t be cool and no one will shout “Watch this!”, from a playground swing. These are the last years they’ll need me, but hopefully not the last they’ll love me. These are the only years I get to be a mom.
There’s no time for sitting on a picnic bench with my head in my hands.