Moving Mountains

I woke up this morning to the sound of my little SMILE's sleepy "Good morning, Mommy" greeting.  I opened my eyes, lifted my head from the pillow, and came face to face with my little man.  He climbed up onto the bed as I peeled up the comforter to make room for him.  He snuggled in close to me and squirmed as I bombarded his head and face with kisses. He flung his arm over his mouth and declared the "kiss store" was closed. This was my cue to feign horror and ask if there's a key, when will it open, is there a window, etc.  I'm not sure when this started with us but we've been doing it for a while and he still giggles when we do it.  I'd do just about anything to hear SMILE giggle.

Moments later, WINK came bounding into the room, jumping and flapping frantically in excitement. "Get over here," I yelled. He climbed onto the bed with no difficulty (Wow, he's getting so big!) and sprawled across me, SMILE, and our poor, startled dog.  As he often does with the SLIGHTEST encouragement, WINK declared his love for everyone in that room.  He's so grateful for every show of affection SMILE, Dad, and I rain down on him and, since DAD and I do it every chance we get and SMILE is surprisingly affectionate with his big bro, WINK is a pretty happy guy, indeed.

The rest of the morning-  breakfast, getting dressed- went off without a hitch.  Well, without unexpected hitches, anyway.  Sure, SMILE declared pants choices 1 and 2 were "too soft."  But Dad, invisible hero cape flying behind him, was armed with a no-fail 3rd option.  WINK wanted candy and was thrown by my mommy meanness (how could I NOT give my child chocolate before school), but was assuaged by a promise of a treat when he gets home.

But somewhere between getting socks on "just right", wrestling with knots in shoelaces, and getting buckled in the backseat on the car,  we arrived at school ON TIME but too late for the boys to go in the door they usually use. "Okay," I thought, "I'll just send them in through the cafeteria with the bus riders." I've done it before and the teachers have been wonderful about allowing me to walk through the room with them. 

But, today, mountains moved.  WINK and SMILE both looked up at me and declared they could get to their classrooms without help.  Actually, WINK looked a little doubtful as he took a deep breath and  set his little jaw in determination. SMILE, however, was the picture of confidence and refused even WINK's help.  Of course, I watched from the door and darted in and through to the far side of the cafeteria when I saw SMILE drift to the left when he needed to turn to the right. But I just nudged his shoulder and he moved on without hesitation.  I smiled at other moms as I ran back to my car and fought down the urge to go to the office.  Could they send out a rescue crew to make sure WINK and SMILE made it without incident and weren't crying somewhere, miserably lost and confused, in that labyrinth of a school?  I sat in my car, slowly drove off, and returned home.  Should I call? 

In the end, I did nothing. Because, today, mountains moved.  And it's my job to let them.