Joys of Warm Bread

I know you're all wondering and yes!  It was a very, very good idea to put pecans in the bread dough yesterday.  But even better than the nutty taste of the bread itself was my companion in tasting it.  As soon as she heard the electric blade, cutting the first slice, Addie abandoned her toys and scurried over to me as quickly as she could manage.

I picked her up so that she was on my right hip and the steaming slice in my left hand.  Knowing that she has little patience when it comes to food, I pinched off a little piece for her before she could dive across my body for it.  She glanced at the bit I offered her, then at the rest of the slice in my other hand, then look at me like, "Really, Mom?"

Because I'm a floor-sitting type of gal, we settled down on the living room linoleum, next to a heater vent, of course, to enjoy our snack.  It was a happy-sad moment as I realized that even this is something I won't always get to enjoy.  This girl will not always come running to sit on my lap for something as simple as warm bread.  She won't always propel herself across the floor on shiny plastic toys or crawl lopsidedly from one place to another while toting her own baby doll under one arm.

While I was home for the holidays, I glanced at my teenage siblings and told my mom that my child was more fun than hers.  Nothing against my brothers and sisters.  They're wonderful people and really incredibly pleasant teenagers.  As a disclaimer here, I should add that I think teenagers really don't deserve the bad reputation they are usually given, collectively speaking.  Nevertheless, I always find myself glancing at my own little girl and thinking, I don't want her to change.  This, while at the same time, happily anticipating her first words and first steps.

I guess that's why we only grow one day at a time.  Maybe that's why progression must be so slow and so final.  When she's sixteen, I might miss the tiny girl who babbled and sang to the blank television and did her best to disappear into the heater vents - but I'll be able to say, 'Look what she understands!' and I'll rejoice, not only in the baby she was, but in the girl she is and in the woman she's becoming.  And I will always treasure the memories I'll have of the moments when we shared an apple, a popsicle, or a slice of freshly baked bread.