I took Ramona to an indoor playground for very little kids. When we walked in, Ramona was shocked and delighted. The stuff to climb on! The bright colors! and all those friends!
She stood in the middle, waved and shouted, "It's me! It's Monut!" But they all just whooshed by her, and she stood like a pebble in a stream. The friends were gone. She tries again, "It's me! It's Monut!" But she's alone.
I know in my head that I'm overwrought here. My daughter is growing up. That's life. But "it's me! It's Monut!" makes me tear up every time I hear it echo in my heart. It was the cry, the "see me, see me, friends" plea. It was the subtle look of surprise at being ignored that makes my heart ache.
I was standing back, observing, but from afar I smiled big, caught her eye and said "Mama sees you, Monut!" But it wasn't what she was looking for. She bounced to the next fun thing, whatever. But I did not. I did not bounce.