A Different View That's Actually the Same

Because I am a special sort of insane, I let Alexis add a tumbling class to her schedule a few months back. It's all sorts of fun for her because it's an hour dedicated to back tucks and arabians and all sorts of other things that I can't name because do you hear that? The tumble-loving girl who won't stop talking? I hear it. I stopped trying to figure out the words because THERE ARE TOO MANY OF THEM.

She really loves that class, is what I'm saying. She ends up talking the whole way home. It basically sounds like omgdidyouseethatbacktuckstepoutomgsofunblahblahblahblahblahwordsmorewordsallwords because ALEXIS FORGETS TO BREATHE. She just talks excitedly the entire way home.

I'm glad she is enjoying the class. It has helped her accelerate her ability to make me cringe when she flips around all over the place. As I have noted many times, we're talking about a kid who gets attacked by the floor when she's standing still. How it is that she can be a graceful dancer and flip around like she's made of springs baffles me. She loves it, though.

Most of the time all of the words are fine. I enjoy her enthusiasm and ignore the details and everybody is happy. Tonight, though. TONIGHT.

IT'S.

A.

HOCKEY.

NIGHT.

IN.

PITTSBURGH.

The NHL playoffs. They are a thing I care about. Muchly. Therefore, I am ready to give myself Mother of the Year just for leaving the house during the game to take Alexis to her class. That's sacrifice, friends. True sacrifice.

I'm not sure what it is when you're trying to hear the game on the radio and the excited little person in the back seat is talking over the game. What's bigger than a sacrifice? Because me not screaming SHHHHHOOOOOOOOSH! at the top of my lungs is bigger than a sacrifice.

I want a cookie, dammit. Ten of them, even.

ANYWAY, as I was using all of my energy to focus on the words coming out of the radio while ignoring all of the words coming from behind me, a singular sentence somehow crashed into my consciousness.

"Mom, have you ever noticed that tree?" Alexis asked.

I had, actually. There is a very perfect tree that sits atop a very perfect hill that is often framed by the sunset as we head home at certain times of the year. It's a very perfect tree that sits atop a very perfect hill that isn't really along the most direct route home, but I take it every time anyway because I like seeing the tree. I told Alexis as much.

"Really? I didn't think anyone ever noticed that tree," she said.

"I've always wanted to grab a book and climb that hill so I could sit under that tree and read for a few hours," I told her. It's true. It's the sort of tree that screams for you to visit it for a long while so that it can spread its branches and hug you with its shade.

"ME, TOO!" Alexis excitedly exclaimed.

We continued for a minute talking about the big tree that had caught our attention and how much we like that it's there. We talked about the randomness of wanting to create the same little moment of joy and the little bits of beauty that park themselves in our everyday lives.

It was a very good night. Definitely.

(LET'S GO PENS!)