Today, I babysat six of my pastor's seven children. When I walked in the front door, it was sort of like being swarmed by an army of locusts. That's probably a prodigious exaggeration, but maybe not. They all rushed to me, pulling me in different directions, talking all at once...it was a bit overwhelming. But they are precious, indeed. And it's nice to be missed. Rebekah, who is 5, took ownership of my right hand for the next 20 minutes and sat on my lap everytime I sat down.
While her siblings were napping/playing Jenga, Sarah, the oldest, wanted to make her world-renown (at least in the Micu household) "chocolate upon chocolate cookies"(I don't think that's the official name of her cookies, but after tasting them, I decided that I would call them that).
Sarah put the cookies in the oven for about 5 minutes. When the timer went off, I inspected her batch. The cookies were still a little mushy, so I suggested that she put them in for about 6-7 more minutes. When they came out, the cookies were very much done. Rebekah's eyes brightened, the hair in her eyes flew out of her face as she turned quickly to me and asked, "How did you know that they needed to be in the oven longer? How did you know!" Before I could answer, Sarah interjected, in a very matter-of-fact tone: "It's 'cause Ms. Linell is a grown up."
I stood there, finger in the air, with my mouth slightly ajar. That wasn't the answer I would've picked. I think what I was actually going to say was, "It's because I'm smart and I go to college" (That answer probably would not have sufficed for an inquisitive five-year old, anyway). But what Sarah said also struck me in a different sense, in a way that feels like lightning struck my brain. I AM a grown-up!
BUT what does that even mean? I certainly don't feel like one. But I, apparently, am one.
weird.
1 comment:
What's it feel like to be a grown up? Are you doing what you said you would want to do when you grew up? Eh?
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