Fifteen Minutes

If you don’t already know it, Coriel and I have been having a lot of clashes over the last several months. I sometimes end the day just wanting to go hide in my room and start over fresh, hoping that my impatience or anger or sadness doesn’t add to her matched set of Family Baggage.*

In those crazy moments, it is hard to see her—really see her, you know? As a beautiful, dear four-year-old who is just figuring things out. As a funny, imaginative girl with very real needs and wants, needs and wants that are no less valid than mine. (Soapboxily, I think most people have this problem with small children; we tend to be unwilling or forgetful of the fact that they are just as human as we are. But that’s a rant for another day.)

So one night this week was such a gift for the both of us. And since in church today we were counseled** to recognize and record our Father’s tender mercies in our life, here we go.

I am not the fun parent. This should be patently obvious to everyone who has ever met both me and Brice. So it is pretty much a given that if Coriel has the choice of which parent to be with, she will choose Brice. But this week, when we returned from a drive and Addra was asleep, Coriel chose me to go inside and play with her while Brice stayed in the car with Addra. A nearly unheard-of choice, and even though it doesn’t bother me that she usually prefers Brice (he really is more fun than I am), it still gave me a little warm fuzzy when she picked me.***

We went inside and had a little picnic on the floor (before you get too impressed with the sweet mommy-ness of this, please note that the picnic was Taco Bell on a blanket). We brought in groceries. We cleaned together for ten minutes (our egg timer is awesome; she loves keeping time, and it makes everything more exciting). Then we had fifteen minutes of super-dedicated Coriel-focused playtime.

Fifteen minutes, you say? Fifteen minutes is puh. It’s pocket change. It’s nothing.

Nope. Fifteen minutes is bliss. Think about it, you who are parents: how often do you have fifteen minutes of interaction that is centered and wholly focused on your child and exactly what she wants, free of distractions? (Okay, yes, I know it—if you are an awesome, organized parent, you’re probably saying, “Every day.” Well, not me.)

We played with her figurines. The princesses had pets, and we fed and took care of them. We read books and snuggled. We ran relay races back and forth down the hall. We played leapfrog. I stared at her harder than I almost ever do. Her expressions are so marvelous; she just makes me laugh in real delight (which delights her as well, so she laughs too). She gave me a huge hug and said she loved me. It was beautiful.

And soon it was over, and it was time to get ready for bed, and things returned to normal. But those fifteen minutes, they were huge even though they were so tiny. They really were a gift.

*It is my theory that everyone gets a fair amount of Family Baggage to sort through as they grow up. But you might as well not try to purposely add to it.

**Thanks, Meghan and Adam!

***I feel like that really awkward, geeky kid who nobody wanted on their kickball team…. Oh, wait. I was that kid.