Playgroup
Yesterday my nineteen-month-old son Drake and I welcomed five other toddlers and moms into the house. The gathering was one of mediated chaos. As the morning waned and things ostensibly wound down, the little ones discovered the front porch, with its mini-slide. Wild delight ensued as they went up, down, and around. Drake introduced two of his compatriots to another feature of the front porch, the mail slot. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out with rapt attention, as Drake held up the flap. Light from outside played across their faces.
Seconds passed. Another mom laughed. “What a picture that is.”
I looked over at her and smiled. “I was just trying to remember where I left the camera.”
Then the boy on the end shoved the one in the middle, who screamed, causing Drake to pull away.
The moment was gone. We made our separate ways into the afternoon.