As the weekend began to wind down this afternoon I considered all the tasks I didn’t accomplish.
I planned to hang a rack in the garage to hold the kids bike helmets. Or, at the very least, remove the broken one.
I considered raking the leaves in the front yard.
My daughter begged me to replace the batteries in the Christmas train.
At least five loads of laundry sit on the floor next to me. Maybe someone else will do it.
My shower curtain has needed to be replaced for weeks. One more week won’t matter.
All week I told myself that on Saturday I’d take Kim’s car to have the oil changed. That didn’t happen either.
I made a mental list of tasks I wanted to accomplish, and I can’t think of a single one I can cross off. These were my thoughts this afternoon. I supposed I could have started a few projects tonight. Instead I took my nearly 4-year old son with me on an errand.
On the way to the store, he stopped chatting only to catch his breath. He told me about his teacher and friends at pre-school. He told me for Christmas he wants games, a Green Machine for his brother, and some more games. But no clothes because they aren’t fun.
I waited for him to ask to play with my iPhone or iPad. That’s normally what he does the second I clasp the strap to his car seat. But tonight he wanted to talk, and I loved listening to him tell me about what’s important to him. His speech has progressed slower than his siblings, and I’m left to fill in the blanks about 30% of the time.
On the drive home, I called my father to talk about the Utes win last night in Pullman. By the time I hung up, Kai was asleep. Before I got out of the car, I turned around and watched my son take a number of deep breaths. His long-sleeved red shirt had picked up a few drool marks.
As I carried him inside, thoughts of all that I’d failed to accomplish this weekend were replaced with a feeling of how lucky I am to have had that time with my son.