It's getting easier. Parenting. Parenting is getting easier.
Kathryn was in the kitchen two nights ago, late, an hour past bedtime, rifling through the silverware drawer for spoons that weren't there. They were in the sink, dirty. Parenting is getting easier, cleaning dishes is still a bag of ass. You probably know why Kathryn was looking for a spoon. Wear your pajamas inside out, put a penny in the freezer, flush an ice cube down the toilet, and place a spoon under your pillow: Ways to make it snow. Ways to cancel school. Ways to win the Grand Prize of Childhood: The Snow Day.
Way back in a drawer, Kathryn found her prize, a tiny forgotten spoon, out of circulation for who knows how long, but as she clasped it in her fist and turned to leave, I stopped her with a question: Did she want snow, or did she want SNOW? I held out to her a handful of big-assed servings spoons and a foot-long stainless steel soup ladle. Kathryn fell flat on her face lunging for the bounty in my hand because footed pajamas are really not meant to be worn inside out.
I offered the spoons to Kathryn for two reasons. Neither one of them were to see her fall, so that was just a bonus. The first was that I knew it would make Kathryn's eyes dance. There would be sparks in them to match the ones in her brain. And second, I really wanted a snow day, too.
And that's how I knew that parenting is getting easier. Because I wanted a snow day.