The First 40 Minutes

I had a really weird spot in my morning.

After packing up the children and dropping Amanda, Elisabeth and Benjamin at YMCA day camp with their friends...

...I got back in the car and drove Madeline to her first gymnastics class for three- and four-year-olds.  The significance of this classification is that her previous class (for two- and three-year-olds) required parent participation.  With a twirl of her tutu, Maddy was off to tiptoe and tumble.



And I was A-L-O-N-E.

10:00 on a Monday morning, and my arms were empty and so was my car.  With the exception of having a babysitter for some pre-arranged purpose, that kind of thing never happens.  It was a real milestone.  It was also a huge, flashing sign that my kids are growing up.

What did I do with the time?  Well, it wasn't much, of course.  I took my time leaving the gym, just in case my baby needed me.  (She didn't.)  Then, I picked up a fountain soda at the gas station and returned a stack of books to the library.  I spent the last 10 minutes thumbing through my "People" magazine, and I was waiting when the door to the gymnastics studio opened and my baby girl bounded out, declaring, "I'm hungry!"

And Mommy was back on duty.