class picnic

I can hear the voice of True begging his Daddy to take him to the class picnic on time.

He doesn't know that there really was no plan for him to attend at all. 

I had written it off as too hard for me in all the headachy yuck as I am in the midst of post 'very fun weekend away'. Huz worked today on his day off and came home with more phone calls to make and a heavy load on his shoulders thanks to me being in bed and pretty useless child wise.

You see when I am unable to do, well, whatever it is, then there is always one, two or three littles who need to be taken care of.

And Huz just came into my room and said, 'I'm going to go. True really wants to'. And I love this spontaneous lets-just-do-it thing he does, and his daddy heart feels what my mummy heart feels too.

True misses out on enough as it is. Give the kid a class picnic if that's what he wants.

And so True, you are going my little. You are also begging for different clothes to wear instead of the school uniform, and you don't really get that Dad is working up until the last minute he can before he races with you there, races his boy (the one we would cross oceans for, the one we love more than chocolate) to a class picnic so that you wouldn't miss out on anything else.

I feel the weight of all that you miss out on.

It's the playdates, the ones we don't offer because how can we when it's all I can do to look after the three of you littles in my own way without adding in any extras.

It's the weekend adventures as a family to farm barns, outdoor trips, car rides into the unknown, meeting new friends, eating lunch all around the place, opening our doors wide in hospitality that you little men miss. And I wonder, do you notice this? This missing?

It's the missing out on what I expected we would gift to you that has made me sad these last few days. The gift of class picnics was on my list of what you would miss. In the fog of my head aching I hear your little voice say to Nana, 'Dad's just gonna chill out'. 
(Hmm...really? I've never heard a parent rave about how relaxing it was taking three littles to a class picnic just before bed time. Anyway. Just sayin'.) 

You are excited to go, and even though it's not me making this happen for you in any way...I'm just in bed...I feel a little part of the sad flake away, fall away, as I'm counting all the missing out. 

You are happy this afternoon to be like the other seven year olds in your class. 

And that's just how it should be.