because it is easy to miss the moment of beauty

Yesterday, my husband was just off. He seemed grumpy, and I couldn’t do much but leave him alone.

I was not so charming myself. But we had a lot to do, and had a lot of toddler (one) to take care of. I figured I would take the little one to her favorite story time at the library. I told Chris this. He told her.

Life with a toddler should be on a need-to-know basis.

“Liberry!” She was pulling on the door to get there. But it wasn’t time yet.

“Why did you tell her?!”

“I’m sorry!” he said.

fine, I got my stuff together and we went early. But lo and behold, they had moved the schedule. CRUSH me. She enjoyed running around and playing even without the regularly scheduled story, but I was nearly devastated that my library would no longer have Saturday story hour. WHAT were they thinking? Us working parents (and that would be MOST) were not free to come at 11 on a Thursday.

We came home, and I was trying to share my feelings with Chris as we were getting V’s lunch ready.

“Did you complain? Did you tell them it was inconvenient?”

“No, because the regular kid librarian wasn’t there, and it was a new mean librarian. Not only did she not care, she said that Veronica had to put her shoes back on.”

“You should write them a letter.”

Typical HUSBAND answer. I WILL write a letter but right now I am having feelings.

“Never mind. I can’t even talk to you.”

“What? I just said you should write a letter.”


So, Veronica had her lunch and then naptime.

Glorious naptime. Back to bed for me. As I am ready to reunite with my pillow, Chris said “I am going to put Veronica’s kitchen together.”

He had long ago ordered a kitchen for V. She loves toy kitchens. He looked over the options and decided on one. The only problem was, the reviews said it was difficult to assemble. So it had been sitting in it’s box waiting til daddy had free time.

Apparently he had free time.

“Fine. I’m going to nap”

I lay down, and enjoy a book, and just as I am about to drift off I hear


the electric screwdriver. He is assembling the kitchen in the house. I thought he would do it somewhere else. The garage? Because he *knew* it was hard to do, and he wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for Veronica.

Well, I was sleepy and not willing to get up to investigate.

Not until, that is, I hear the sounds of child awakening.

I stagger out. I see the living room entirely covered in parts. And a storm clouded husband, with the fugue that only comes from allen wrenches and “Some Assembly Required”.

“I didn’t think you were going to do this in here”

“I am pretty sure this is missing pieces. And I dont’ have the right tools.”

What in God’s name possessed this man to start this project here? And now? Doesn’t he know that my life depends on Saturday nap? How am I supposed to keep my energy up?

I looked at him. I did not say any of the things I was thinking. I didn’t even have the energy to yell at him. My nap was gone, never to be had. The point now was how to handle this situation.

“Can you move this to your office?”

“I don’t have room in my office!”

Hm. “Can you cover the parts that look like a kitchen so Veronica won’t know what it is?”

He gathers the bits, and I say “I’ll go get her and we will go somewhere while you finish.”

Now it just looks like he is constructing a white cabinet, and I go get the child. I tell her that we are going to go on a trip.

Not if she has any say:  “Jammies ON!’

yeah.  She didn’t really want to be awake either.

Well, since she is still sluggish we go to the couch and she plays with the iPad. She minds her own business, and Chris makes progress. She is happy to have us all in the same room. “Daddy, what you doing?’

“I’m building.”

back to the iPad.

Chris is making so much progress that he gets to the part where the hidden items have to come out. We had to confer over her head. The vote: she was content, and he should keep going.

Out comes the toy stove top, the little sink and the refrigerator door.

“A kitchen!” Eagle eyes darted up from the iPad. “Whachoo doing?”

“Daddy’s making a kitchen for Veronica. You need to wait your turn, and then you can play with it.”

Veronica, the irrepressibly wiggly child, sat quietly on the couch with me, and started fascinated at the construction of her toy kitchen. There were a very few excursions down the hall to find a favorite stuffed animal, but for more than an hour she sat patiently and waited in anticipation for her kitchen to be assembled.

It was a miracle. I’ve never seen her exercise such control. I would have sworn she didn’t have it in her to sit still and be patient.

At one point, when I had stepped away, she said to her daddy:

“It’s a very nice kitchen, Daddy. Thank you.  Can I come give you a hug?”

She had been instructed to stay out of his way. She had just said THREE PERFECT SENTENCES.

Daddy said “Yes, you can give me a hug.”

She walked up to him still in her footy jammies, gave him a big hug, and then went back to her chair.

The kitchen was complete fairly soon thereafter, and she could not have been more delighted.

Here’s the thing. I could have ripped Chris a new one for the many things along the way before we got to the part where Veronica was being as cute as anything. But I didn’t. I bit my tongue and just didn’t.

And we had an afternoon that we will remember for the rest of our lives. It was have been so easy to screw it up and never know what I had missed.