Back in the days of diapers, midnight feedings and spit-up, I used to escape once in a while. On the last Monday of the month, it was momma’s day out. PB would stay home for a fun day with the kids. I usually left a detailed list of who needed what and when and why and how. It was vital for everyone to stay on schedule or I would pay dearly for my absence the next day. Most importantly, before heading out the door I always sternly warned, “Not too much TV. Read books, play outside, do arts and crafts, but don’t spend all day in front of the TV.” Grinning children would give knowing glances to each other and say, “Bye Mom!” I always wondered what actually happened in the moments after I drove out of the driveway.
One day, after returning from a refreshing time away, I was pleased to see the house in order, the kitchen clean, the children happy. It had been a great day of fun with dad. Books had been read, games had been played, pictures had been colored. I was impressed. Then I heard it: PB’s lilting whistle in the other room. I knew the tune immediately: “Casey Junior”. You know the one:
“Casey Junior’s comin’ down the track, comin’ down the track with a smokey stack.”
That could mean only one thing. PB had put baby Sam down for his afternoon nap, curled up on the couch with Katie and snoozed while she watched her favorite movie: “Dumbo”. The whistle gave it away.
Thinking about this memory kinda makes me want to watch the Disney classic again. I hope Poppa will get to snuggle up with Grand Baby someday and watch the baby elephant come floating down to the tune of “Look Out for Mister Stork”. I hope I can rock-a-bye with Little Mister while we watch Dumbo rock in his mother’s trunk to the tune of “Baby Mine”. I hope we can tell him how this was his mommy’s favorite movie.
I’ll tell ya, waiting for this baby to come is turning me into a puddle of nostalgic goo.