I love the springtime when dandelions make their appearance. Not just because they bring Ellie such delight in picking them for our table centerpiece, but because of my mom.
My mom was very sick with pneumonia when she was due to have my sister (3_??? years ago). My brother was 3 years old that summer. One day he was enjoying a June day in the backyard, but kept coming to the door and knocking to tell his Mommy something nonsensical, but-very-important-to-a-3-year-old. My Mom was very sick and very pregnant and was continually required to get up and help him open the door every time he knocked. Finally, her patience slipped and she said, “What do you want this time??!!??”
He smiled up at her with his blue eyes and said, “Me just have a flowery for my Mommy.”
I have heard that story my whole life. I have a three year old now who loves to bring her Mommy dandelions and who can’t quite get that back door open by herself when her hands are full. I answer with a smile every time – remembering my Mom’s chagrin for years afterward.
Thanks, Mom, for telling that story – I remember, even on the seemingly endless trips to the backdoor to admire a rock or a leaf or to those lovely dandelions.