“Who can tell me what an antique is?” Mommy asked from the front seat of the car, turning down the music to Grease that the kids were singing along to.
“Something old.” They said in unison.
“And…..?” I prodded.
My children have been watching me paint and collect old items since their blurry baby eyes first started to be able to pick out objects in a room. Mommy’s definition of an antique is something old and special. I was excited when they had a day off last week and I could take them out to Luckett’s. DH thought I was a bit crazy for taking them along instead of getting a babysitter, but I really want to teach them more of what Mommy does and why there is magic in it.
I packed snacks for the drive out and loaded up the car with kids and smalls for my space.
And of course a hammer, nails and tape measure in my purse!
They were so excited to come with me and thrilled about the promise that they could each pick out one, small antique for themselves. This was a real field trip after all.
I could barely contain them once we got there. Papa also met up with us and helped wipe down furniture.
We checked out every single room, sometimes twice.
They loved running in and out of the little houses outside and playing the game, “What is the coolest thing in this room?”
By early afternoon they were all pretty worn out.
They each picked a gift that suited them. But, unfortunately, there was no room for the treasure that Mommy found. Next week! I cannot pass up anything with cubbies!
I’m working on my legacy. I want my kids to understand their mom and appreciate the possibility in things that look impossibly old or different. I want them to search for treasure in their lives and not reach for the first shiney thing they are handed. I want them to seek out true friends and use their imaginations. And when I am gone I want them to feel mommy’s presence every time they see a blue egg in a brown nest.
Yes, Reid, that car is old and special but I’m pretty sure their is not an engine in it either.