Parenting is a lot of things. You could fill in just about any adjective to describe it, and it would be accurate: Hilarious, aggravating, fulfilling, exhausting, exhilarating, poop-y, sweet. The sweet moments are the ones that stick with you.
Today, one arrived in a bouquet of birdsfoot trefoil.
It came about because the kids and I walk to school in the morning, and explore as we go. There’s a patch of birdsfoot trefoil by the school, and with a neat name like that, they became botanists. They learned the name two years ago. When the BFT returned a year later, the middle one greeted it like an old friend. “It’s back. The birdsfoot trefoil is back!”
Now the older ones are getting big enough to explore a bit on their own. This morning, the middle guy asked if he could take the dog on a little excursion, and they were off. About a half an hour later, they returned happy, with a tiny bouquet in tow: some chicory, false dandelion, morning glory, and birdsfoot trefoil.
Because, he explained, “when I saw the birdsfoot trefoil, I thought of you and wanted to bring you flowers.”
When I wonder what legacy we are leaving our kids, I know that this is one: he will see me in things that grow, and he will appreciate those things, in part because he knows they have names.
