"This is MY mom!"

Yesterday morning I had procured all the necessary books off the library shelves: Disney Princesses, Tinkerbell, A Princess and Her Horse, The Princess and the Pea, and Rapunzel. The munchkin and I sat at a small table in even smaller chairs and I read the tales to her two-year-old heart's content.

A boy, not much older than this daughter of mine, hoisted himself into a chair beside us and laid his offerings on the table: Marvel Superheros. He sat and listened to all the tales politely, though they were clearly not his forte'. He would interject facts such as "Have you seen this movie?" pointing to Wolverine, and "I like this movie," indicating The Incredible Hulk.

And all the while the clock continued it's circular cycle until an hour had passed and no one had come to claim this precious boy. It was time to leave and I was beginning to wonder if I needed to find his caregiver and who that could be who would abandon him with books they were not reading to him and answers they were withholding from his endless questions.

I held my little girl's hand and the boy toddled beside us and I must admit my feisty daughter scowled at him and said, "This is MY mom!" The little boy fell out of step with us and I ran off chasing down my long haired thundercloud as she stormed around the library.

As I approached the front desk, I saw him again. Growing tired, he was laying beside the checkout. A woman was walking toward the computers and he got up and stood beside her. She did not look at him, she did not speak to him, and he did not mention Wolverine and The Incredible Hulk to her. The last hour of his life was unknown to her and I admit I wanted to shake her as I walked by and shout, "WAKE UP!!"

I wish I had read a non princess story. I wish I had read him his Wolverine book or that he had said to my offspring, "This is MY mom!", but he didn't. He just looked at me and I clung to my girl, grateful that she is grateful (or at least possessive) that I am her mother.

I learned a valuable lesson. I am not just a mother when my two kids are with me. I am a mother in whatever circumstance I find myself in. As a woman, I have been blessed with compassion and empathy, but there are so many times I am guarded and careful. I've never regretted being too kind and in the moment I had an opportunity to mother a child who needed some time.

I'm hoping that someone somewhere is reading that little one a story. And I hope it's his mother...

And now for something completely different:

I was invited by my friend Melissa to play a blog game kind of like the old slumber party game “Telephone.”
One blogger starts a story and passes it on. Each blogger adds a part. It should be interesting to see where it goes.
So here it is:
A Writer-Mama’s Tale –
The Seduction of Vintage Grapes

Even the crickets had rested their legs when she sat back in her chair and sighed with a final sip of vintage grapes. Darkness swallowed……..

the sob that threatened to tear from throat as she watched her only child drive away. What did he know about the world outside of….

our small town. Was he ready for what laid ahead of him? Her lip quivered as she thought back to the days when….

Jason toddled behind his father through the vineyards and copied his every movement. Mark was young and full of hope and desire then. His face…..

,now lined from time and stress, still shined with pride for their son. As Jason's car drove away, they…

embraced as the breeze, pregnant with the scent of ripe grapes, swirled around them. Their eyes remained transfixed on the car until....

Mark cleared the emotional phlegm from his throat and held his faded blue goblet aloft. “Here’s to new beginnings.” Her first instinct was…

You can click on any of the sentences above to go to the author's original post then head on over to Mindi's blog on Wednesday to see what happens next!