King for a Day and the Magic Number

Having kids is magic.

Or so they say...

Actually, yes it is.

(I waffle)....

There are moments like Tuesday, when sweet angel boy was "King for a Day" in his kindergarten class.  He came home wearing a crown.  Enough to melt your heart.

Part of being "King for a Day" meant that sweet boy had to fill up a "magic bag" with only five items that represent who he is.  He then sat in front of his precious little peers and one-by-one explained why he choose such items and what they say about him.  Mind you, he is five.  FIVE.  As in... one hand.

This picking-items-business would be difficult for most adults.  I'm not sure what items I would even choose. And sitting and speaking in front of your class?  Enough to make anyone nervous.

He filled his bag with a penguin, a dinosaur made of legos, a baseball, a green pen with a football at the top that shoots off the pen at the touch of a button, and a photo of his mom, dad, sister, and him in Hawaii just after a whale and dolphin watching cruise.

He explained it to me like this:  "I love penguins, dinosaurs and legos, mama." Then, he went on to explain that he was a baseball player for the A's last season at Junior Deputy and loves the color green and can't wait to get his helmet on to play flag football for the Colts.   Oh, and the photo?  His precious peeps.... 

It apparently went swimmingly well.  Upon pick-up, his mood was beyond swell.  He also had a ring pop which is one of those suckers that you wear on your finger.

Where'd that come from?

In his school district, each child is assigned a six-digit number that they are required to remember. I can't even remember my phone number, so this is a tall order in my opinion.

But we've been practicing, and turns out, the very day that he is "king,"  he recited his number when his sweet teacher Mrs. Johnson asked unexpectedly.  So, like every kindergartner who recites his number correctly, he got a ring pop!

Magic.

Or something like it.

Real life, actually.

Which is magic...

We were on a high that night.  Ridiculous. Puppet show, tag-chases in circles through the hall and out through the dining room.  Screechin' and hollerin' through the house.

Then it was time for bed.  Time to stop and get ready for another day of magic.  Well, it was downhill from there. Believe me, I got to hear alllllllll about how "mommy is MEAN,"  just one giant "meanie."

(Magic is dead and instead replaced with screaming mom).  "GO.  TO.  BED."

Crying and moaning followed, of course. Fighting my kids to sleep.

It is in these moments, I feel I'm thrown on top of life's fire.  And it sure doesn't feel like magic then.

But when I wake up the next day to two very sleepy babes, I think it really is.  All magic -- meant to make us stronger, more understanding, more accepting.  All of it -- moments that give our lives meaning.  The moments that keep me moving, keep me alive.  Moments that make it all worthwhile.

The days I try to figure it all out, search for some string of meaning... I just come back to days like this. As simple as a little boy who gets to be king for a day.  Who remembers his magic number.

Kings all around us.  Magic everywhere.  ...if only we choose to see it.

I guess I don't really waffle after all....

A long road to wisdom, yes?