Alone time

On Saturday mornings, I press the pause button on dirty diapers, subtraction worksheets and a ringing telephone. With a sippy cup full of milk in the fridge and daddy on duty, I leave the baby exclaiming, “Buh, buh, ball,” and “Ooooh, wow. Dog.”

Then, my big girl and I head outside.

We grab hands and skip up the concrete path. We clutch field guides, art supplies and the latest issue of “Highlights.” At the nearby soccer field, we study the outcropping of purple ruellia and then wonder if the tangerine-colored rain lilies truly are the same species as the white ones.

We go to Mozart’s Coffee Roasters for a bagel to share. I try to ignore the croissants with their thick pouches of chocolate and the bottomless mugs of hot coffee. Instead, I sip water as we sit by the silvery waters of Lake Austin and sketch the fresh-cut flowers on our table. Later, we toss some of our crumbs to the ducks.

During our time, I try to omit the word “no” from my vocabulary. “Mommy, can I take my shoes off?” “Yes.” “Can I put more honey in my tea?” “Yes.” “Can we look for every single household item hidden in the puzzle?” “Yes.”

Racing home, our sketch pad is filled with side-by-side renderings of the same red carnation. My big girl zigzags in front of me, trying to thwart my attempt to pass her. We both laugh hysterically, yet we are still aware that soon it will be time to press play.