The Emergence of a Big Girl

By Catherine Canzani

The emergence of spring is always an exciting time for our little family. First, the sun grows a little warmer and we marvel at the drip-drip of melting snow all around us. The puppy, now turned giant, begins to track mud all over my floors, and the house cats wake up from their winter slumber and grow restless, anxious to explore the great outdoors. Before we know it, the kids start shedding their hats, mitts, and jackets, and my husband and I embark on our yearly competition to see who can spot the first robin.

This spring was no different, or so I thought. We set up the kids’ trampoline and dug out the barbeque, which was still buried under a mountain of snow, and the kids did their annual switch-over from outdoor winter clothes to mud-season clothes. The hallway closet was open, and all three little heads were bent over the heap of spring things which they had tugged down from the shelves. My son threw various mud pants, boots, caps, and raincoats out into the hallway, while the girls oohed and ahhhed over the clothes they hadn’t seen in a year.

My youngest, Olivia, sat down in the middle of the pile and pulled on her yellow and white rubber ducky boots. She tugged and pushed and finally got her feet into them. She stood up and yelled, “Ouch! They’re too tight.” I felt a little choked up. How could her cute little ducky boots no longer fit her? She was my baby.

I watched her as she sat in the midst of the jumbled clothes, the rejected boots flung into a corner. Now she pulled on her big sister’s pink boots with determination. “These fit great,” she said with a smile. Laura’s response was immediate. “Then what am I going to wear?” Wordlessly, I passed her her brother’s boots. “Looks like we’re going shopping for new boots, Miles,” I told him with a sigh.

Once we finally got the boot problem sorted out, we set outside to play. Olivia ran off with her brother and sister, racing to see who would get to the trampoline first. I sat back in the Adirondack chair we had pulled out of the shed and watched them. They whooped and hollered and laughed as they jumped, and I couldn’t help but notice how they had grown since last summer.

Later we went for a spring walk. The older two sped off on their bicycles. Olivia didn’t want to hold my hand. Next they dug out their chalk. Olivia didn’t need me to draw her a smiley face. She could do it and write her name underneath. We went inside. I offered to read the girls a story. “That’s okay mom, we’re busy playing Bratz,” Olivia informed me.

Since I wasn’t needed, I went back outside and told my husband about the ducky boots. “Don’t be sad,” he told me. “She’s still really little.” I nodded absently, but didn’t believe him.

“Watch this,” he told me. He pulled out his cell phone and dialled our home number. Olivia answered inside the house after one ring, even though she knows that she is not allowed to answer the phone.

“Hello!” she said.

“Hello, this is the Easter Bunny,” began my husband in a rabbitish voice.

“Laura! It’s the Easter Bunny!” We heard Olivia exclaim. I snuck into the house to watch her as she excitedly talked to the Easter Bunny.

Laura gave me a wink. She knew what was going on. I silently put my finger up to my lips. “Shhhh…” I whispered as I winked back.

Later that day, I packed the little ducky boots in a box to donate to charity. I smiled as I thought, “She may have outgrown her boots, but she still believes in the Easter Bunny. That officially makes her “little” still in my books.