Last week my darling 2.5 year old was doing what nosy 2.5 year olds do. I walked into our bedroom to blue and tan sand spewed across the wood floor. You know, the tiny fine grained wedding sand-kind.
And then I whispered, "Oh babydoll, this is not good." Her eyes got big and she welled up...I had no idea a whisper could be so powerful.
This sandy vase has survived 3 moves in four years completely unscathed. Not even an indentation in the smooth top surface. It has been sitting on our bedside table for nearly the last two untouched by baby chub fingers. Shockingly flawless. It is only fitting that my bitty got her grimy paws in the sand just days before our anniversary.
I wasn't sure to laugh or well up myself. Laugh, of course, because why we would naively think that a vase would survive at baby height? Or cry because after all it was OUR WEDDING sand. You know when the glorious Don Johnson so poetically said that the colored sand made us one. It was all about us.
I called the hubs as I was vacuuming the scattered sand. There was just a handful of silent seconds that had passed before he said exactly what I was thinking and we laughed together. This is why we work.
It is all about us. Us is now four.
I think the vase is even more beautiful now.
Happy anniversary to my loves. 4 is exponentially better than two.