When she first fell in love with the experience, she would ask to go to, "Betchtubles."
Last year she squealed, "Vegetables!" when we pulled into the parking lot.
This year, it's the "Farmers Market" that is her idea of a fun night out.
As much as Alexis has grown up, some things have stayed the same. She has always loved going to the Farmers Market. We walk up and down and back and forth, peering at vegetables and fruit and pastries and various other foodstuffs. She tells me how much she loves green beans and salad. We score some great deals on fruit that will vanish before I can even get it in the fruit bowl. We pull together a healthy dinner or two.
Before we leave, we always, always, always walk down to the man who makes and sells fresh kettle corn. The moment plays like a scene out of a movie, rewound and replayed over and over and over. There is never any variation.
It starts with the high-pitched request, "Can I buy some popcorn, please?"
I hand Alexis $5, grab her hand, and together we walk over to the familiar man in the corner. As we move closer, I gently urge Alexis to ask the man for a medium and to hand him her money.
Each time she agrees.
Each time she chickens out.
Just as the moment comes to make her request, she shoves the money back into my hand and buries her face in my legs. I reassure her that it's OK as I make the purchase on her behalf. I remind her that she needs to tell the man "Thank you." She whispers the words to him as we walk away, just before breaking out a huge grin as she clutches her kettle corn tightly.
Always the same. Always.
Until tonight.
Tonight the Big Girl took that $5, cautiously walked up to the man, and whispered, "I would like a medium, please," as she thrust her money towards him. Tonight the Big Girl bought her beloved kettle corn All. By. Herself.
As we slowly walked away, I struggled to pick my jaw up off the floor as the magnitude of what she had just done sunk into Alexis' consciousness.
"Momma!" she suddenly declared. "I did it all by myself!" Her words gushed with pride.
I might have been a little bit proud of her as well.
