I was walking through a mall food court the other day and I was pushing my one and a half year old daughter Maya in her stroller. She was curiously and apprehensively looking around at the people who were deciding what to eat. I rolled her into Jamba Juice and ordered a fruit smoothie. When the drink arrived, I found a seat and took her out of her stroller so that she could sit on my lap and we could share. This is what I had looked forward to all day, the simple and seemingly banal act of smoothie sharing with my toddler.
Once we were settled, I put the straw near her mouth and she began to slurp. The drink slowly started to rise through the straw. She was concentrating intently because she did not yet know how to judge the speed of the upcoming liquid. The look on her face was serious and focused, as if she was assembling a delicate watch. After she took a few sips, she paused and looked up at me with a satisfied smile, as if to say, 'I'm so glad this exists!' Then, she re-attached herself to the straw and the liquid slowly started to rise again.
She took her first steps at her first birthday party and has been walking for several months now. She's gone from tentatively moving between two fixed points, to constant motion, perpetually jogging from one room to the next. So this is the only time that she'll be still for more than a few seconds all day.
We both use the time to relax and reflect. I know she's only a toddler but I'm convinced that she's using the time to process the changes in her life: the recently acquired skill of walking, all the new food that she is trying, her new daycare, etc. She's not thinking in sentences obviously, more in images and feelings. Toddlers don't really seem to relax without a que. They run and eat and play and then crash when nap time comes. This is the only time that she'll relax all day, which means this is the only time that I'll relax all day. Although I'm not having a conversation with Maya as we sit there, we are bonding on some level, similar to when I have a beer with one of my friends.
People are looking at us and I'm wondering what they are thinking. We get several smiles from strangers, mostly older women. I'm sure we look adorable and people are thinking, 'Oh he's such a good dad'. I hope so, but us siting there together doesn't really mean anything. As I'm sitting there, I'm trying to think of things that I could buy myself in the mall.
Our first shared smoothie happened when she was about 8 months old. I was in the grocery store with her and decided to get one for myself. She saw me slurp on the straw and she gave me an anxious look, like she wanted some. I lowered the cup below her mouth. I wasn't sure what her reaction would be because she had never used a straw and I thought she might get frustrated. Instead, she attached herself to the straw and the liquid started to rise slowly into her mouth. Then she pulled away and took a few seconds to savor the cold fruit mush, smiled sweetly and then intently went for the straw again.
She's too young to really appreciate the concept of sharing and, honestly, she doesn't give up the straw easily. When I do get a turn, she allows me a quick sip before clamoring for more. But the fact that she allows me anything at all is beautiful and gracious, and I hope this seed of kindness develops.
We pass the drink back and forth and the fuller she gets, the more I get to consume myself. I'm not sure why the sharing of the smoothie rises above the other mudane tasks that we do all day. Maybe it's the physical act of sharing or because she's still and calm for so long or that we are providing each other with food. Whatever the reasons, this is a gratifying experience to have as a father, a reward for the less appealing aspects of raising a toddler.
When we are done, I throw the cup in the trash and put Maya back in the stroller. After I strap her in, I push the stroller back into the fray of the mall. She needs a new pair of shoes and I need to find myself something to read during her upcoming nap time.
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