I was awoken this morning at 7:00. “Mama,” he said. “Can you come in my room, please? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Or,” he offered, “I can talk to you in your room if the light is on.” He turned the light on. Climbed into my bed. Turned to face me.
“Since we didn’t do anything fun yesterday except pack our stuff and go on an airplane, can I stay home from school today so I can have a Monday?”
He was so earnest in his asking. And, frankly, if I didn’t have jury duty and if we didn’t pay for school whether he went or not and if we hadn’t already missed two of those prepaid days last week when we were on vacation, I would have said yes. He had a point. Monday is one of his favorite days and yesterday’s Monday kind of blew for him. Rushing, driving, packing, flying.
I consider us both lucky. Since he was 13 months old, we have only ever had to have him in part-time day care. Two days for a long time and then a bump up to three days, but we have always been able to have two weekdays per week to spend together. And we have made good use of these days through the years. Day trips to the shore. Visits to the Crayola Factory. Thomas the Tank Engine at Strasburg. Days at home in pajamas from sunup to sundown. We have baked and shopped and built with Legos. Gotten car washes, gone to playgrounds, and joined playgroups.
I’m going to miss these days next year when he goes to kindergarten. He’ll only be half-day and we will be able to fit in some adventures on the days he doesn’t go to After-K, but we’ll never again have these endless empty hours ahead of us. Weekends, sure. But there’s something about weekdays when the museums are empty and the lunch spots seem reserved just for mamas and their kids. It’s like playing hooky and it feels like a delicious little treat.
Soon we will be filling our days with class and schedules and homework and all the other mundanities of being a school-age kid. And that will bring with it a whole new set of experiences. But I know that however our days pan out in the years to come, I will always treasure these Mondays of his young childhood. And so will he.