Tuesday, May 6, 2014
This was my car port last Saturday. Nothing special, really. Our whole neighborhood had a garage sale.
See the train table. That's my nine-year-old's. He wanted to sell it. See, he has to get on his knees to play on it now (building legos, no more trains) . Used to be, he held onto the sides so it would hold him up. We got it for him when he was just two and wooden trains named Thomas were constantly clutched in his hands.
Most of the morning people came and went. The red chair (very comfortable but too big for my office) went. All the appliances (finally selling off the doubles I received for my wedding. Really, I got four crockpots! And yes, I've been married almost 12 years, so these were vintage appliances) went except for the quesadilla maker.
But I ramble.
I didn't want the train table to sell.
The train room has turned into the lego room and is about to turn into the Xbox room, but Mommy-Me wants the train room back.
I've looked in his bedroom and in the living room and now in the lego room and here's what I see: Nothing left from his toddler years.
He's growing up, and I just have one!
But, I sat next to him and hawked the train table.
After the garage sale ended, we carried the train table back in. It didn't sell. It's in the lego room, unused and lonely.
Last evening I took my son and his friend to the skateboard park. He put his feet on the skateboard and went down a steep dip, jumped, turned, skidded, and then looked at me. I smiled and yelled WOW.
Really, I don't need no stinkin' train table.
I've got a Mike.
What remnant from your children's early days did you have a hard time parting with?
Click Here for a chance to win not only Pamela's book, but also Melinda Curtis's and Cynthia Thomason's. And, in celebration of Mother's Day, this bouquet might also come your way!