Upon returning to school this week, many comments about how much my son had grown made their way back home. I didn't think much of it until we tried on a pair of jeans that were WAY to small.
While getting ready for swimming, I told my son that he is growing like a weed. Understanding that my comment was somewhat of a metaphor (the meaning, not the word), he smiled and came up with his own metaphors on growing:
[son, smiling] "Mom, I'm not growing like a weed, I'm growing like a beanstalk!"
My husband and I looked at each other. In agreement, we said, "that is a good one."
[son, still smiling] "Dad, you are growing like a clock!"
Again, looking at one another, my husband and I declare, "yes, that is true, time is ticking away for Dad."
[son] "Sis, you are growing like a flower!"
We can't deny that our daughter gets even more beautiful every day and nod our head with a yes.
[son] "Mom, you are growing like a wreath!"
Confused, I look at my son and say, "Like what?"
[son] "Like a wreath, it keeps going around and around."
After thinking more deeply about this metaphor, I couldn't help but realize that I do feel like I spin my wheels, chase my tail or any other familiar phrase that signifies being in constant motion and going nowhere. That pretty much sums up the life of a mother. Our work is never truly finished.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment