“Hey Shar, did you have fun at the pumpkin patch?”

“Yes Daddy, I saw lots and lots of biiiiiig punkins.”

“Did you bring one home?”

“Nope. I didn’t have my quarter.”

Ken made sure she had a quarter before he left for work that morning.

“You lost your quarter?”

“No. I didn’t have it.”

“I gave you a quarter this morning.”

“I know Daddy, but I didn’t have it to buy the punkin.”

“You lost your quarter,” he said.

“No.”

“If I gave you a quarter and you didn’t have it, you lost it.”

“No, I DIDN’T lose it.” she said with emphasis.

“Do you still have it?”

“No.”

“Then it is lost.”

“It isn’t lost. I know ‘xactly where it is. It fell between the bus seat and the bus wall. I know where it is, but I can’t get it. It ISN’T lost.”

Case closed. No quarter, no pumpkin but the quarter is NOT lost. I was sure she would grow up to be Clarence Darrow. Her logic was flawless; her argument, decisive. Even her daddy could not shake her. She knew what lost meant and she didn’t waiver.

I am entranced by little people. Any child between birth and eight years old, I find enchanting. I can spend hours watching and talking with them. At one time I wanted to be a second-grade teacher like Miss Jones, with whom I felt a special rapport. Instead, I became a mother. Although those years between birth and eight didn’t last as long with my own children as they would have with year after year of new students in school, I thoroughly enjoyed those times. After the age of eight, children are lured into our larger social structure through school and activities, and they lose that innocent view of the world. Much of the awe is exchanged for a comfort with the reality around them.

I am so privileged to have been a stay-at-home mom. I was able to experience the day-to-day wonder as each child began their journey. Now I think it is a rare privilege. It seems that mothers these days are required to work outside the home for financial reasons or choose to do so because of career choices.

My own mother was a working mom, through choice as much as necessity. I resented that for many years even though I know what she sacrificed to keep both sides of her life humming along. I wanted her to be home with me as all the other kids had their moms at home. My parents did their very best to provide in-home daycare for me. I never went to an outside babysitter or daycare center. Even though I had terrific nannies who I remember with fondness, it still wasn’t Mom. My husband and I agreed that when we had children, I would be home with them. He often worked two jobs to make sure we could provide that lifestyle. Thus, I was able to be a part of those special moments in each child’s life. Many I recorded in journals and many more I have probably forgotten but the echo of that special time remains.