Out of milk, I ventured to the grocery store at 9:30pm on a Sunday night. I actually don’t mind going to the grocery later in the evening. I can do the self-checkout without feeling rushed, poke and prod the produce as much as I like, and spend some time actually choosing what I buy, rather than plucking things off the shelves without much thought.
But, as I said, it was 9:30 on a Sunday night.
There was a little girl there, about Ollie’s age. Seriously, cute as a button with blond-ish curly hair and a big smile. Wide awake, wearing green-with-pink-polka dot pants and a pink jacket.
Can you see her? She’s adorable, right?
My first thought when I saw her wasn’t how cute she was, or how smiley. Not even a little milestone envy at how good she was at waving.
The very first thought in my noggin was: How is she so awake this late? Why isn’t she in bed yet?
I’m thinking like a mom.
This isn’t to say that that thought went through my head all high-and-mighty. I know that different kids have very different schedules. I just wondered how this little ray of sunshine had the energy to be so awake at 9:30pm, when I had to change out of my jammies since I had been ready for bed about 2 hours before.