My toe kicks a gummie across the floor, then, crunch... a Cheerio is now fine powder. I trip over a doll and have a near-death experience. A Lego lurking in the darkness is like a steel spiked bear trap to my tender bare foot. Slippery suds splashed from a tub onto a tile floor challenge my gymnastic skills. Sigh... I HOPE that was peanut butter. A book on carpet is my new skateboard, and the smallest crayon is like a log on water. How on earth have I remained alive?
While cleaning the kitchen this morning, I discovered that stepping on a spaghetti-o at just the right angle with a bare foot on a linoleum floor creates the coolest high pitch squeaky sound. I had to just stop and smile. I thought of all the things I've stepped on in my short 7 years as a mother, and I realized these years are precious. I probably won't have to sweep and vacuum literally every single day once my babies have grown and left my house. And something tells me that my clean, safe feet will feel a little lonely.
So, yes... I will step on the spaghetti-o... and smile.
I love the way you seem to be able to find so many good thoughts in so many little things. Personally, there are mermaids on the side of my bathtub, and Cinderella sits on the nightstand by my bed. But what I love most of all are the fingerprints all over my heart. They will long outlast the Spaghetti-Os.
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