“Mommy, when you sit down on that chair your leg REALLY goes out on the sides!” Those words spilled effortlessly from the smiling lips of my angelicly innocent 8-year old son, Xavier. My state of blissful pride came to a screeching halt. So rewind back to when these words were spoken…
One day, I was sitting on one of our hardwood calaman chairs in our living room, proudly listening to my 8-year old aptly play his entire repertoire of songs. It’s simply amazing to me how easily he has picked up learning how to play the piano, and I’m sure that I shoot out bright, sharp rays of light coming out of my every pore each time he plays.
When he finished, he turned around with his huge smile, just waiting to soak in my praise. I’m positive I said something about how brilliant he was or how he was likely going to be asked to play a solo during the San Francisco Symphony. I can’t believe he wouldn’t have been blinded by my bright beams of motherly gloating, but no he wasn’t blinded. He could see perfectly well as he pointed to my leg and stated, “Mommy, when you sit down on that chair your leg REALLY goes out on the sides!”
I know my face showed shock and disbelief because the sweet, loving child that he is, Xavier saw my face and his reaction was to fix things. His remedy: “No, no, no Mommy! I just meant that your leg goes out a lot NOW, it didn’t used to do that!”
Times like that you need to close your eyes and chant, "I love my kids. I love my kids. I love my kids." I must really love my kids — and they’re lucky for that … because otherwise I would guiltlessly have kicked them to the curb so long ago using my fat, old lady legs.