Written on her precious Hannah Montana note paper, Smootch complied our grocery list yesterday, dictated by myself as I did the dishes. Much appreciated on my part. Or was until I got to the grocery store and, with the grabby handed baby and hyper endorphine crazed jogging crowd who stop by for juice post-workout, I lacked the focus to make out what the heck kind of crazy secret code the grocery list was written in.
After I picked up the obvious items I wheeled my giant space ship cart over to the quiet corner of the store and sat down to figure out the rest. And to acknowledge that the momentarily frustration I feel trying to read what Smootch writes is what Smootch feels everytime she picks up a book or looks at a sign. That she has gumption, taking on the monumentous task of learning to read while all this distracting life is going on. And sometimes she needs a quiet corner to help her focus too. My job is provide books, encouragment, as well as space and time. Oh, and Hannah Montana notepaper.