Oh to be able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, without even trying.
On Saturday past, we received a last minute invitation to join friends for dinner. Now, while we usually try to have Mini-me tucked up in bed by 7.30pm, we’re also aware that she needs to have the odd night out of routine. We’re also very aware that in a few months time, we’ll be less able to make sporadic plans with a new-born in the house, so we gratefully replied to say “Absolutely! See you in an hour.”
We had a lovely evening. The kids played for hours, oblivious to bedtime passing. The adults ate and laughed and talked. It was bliss.
In true Cinderella style, just before midnight, we packed an exhausted threenager into her car seat. We assumed that she’d fall asleep and that Daddy would simply lift the Sleeping Beauty into the house and tuck her into bed in her clothes. We were wrong.
Because what we had never considered or anticipated was the absolute magic that the journey would present to her.
As we drove through the town, she began to gasp in awe. “Oh Daddy, I looooooooove them!” she announced.
We hadn’t a clue what was so exciting, until I looked around and saw her chubby little face illuminated by a streetlamp. Her eyes were popping out of her head and her jaw was quite literally on the floor.
“What do you love?” Daddy asked, still unsure of what was so amazing that it had warded off the snoozes.
“All the magic lights floating in the sky,” she replied. “They’re booootiful! I love them. What are they Daddy?”
“They’re streetlights Darling. They light up the town when it’s dark,” was his answer.
“Nooooooooo!! They’re magic lights from the fairies to guide us home. They’re floating lanterns like Tangled!” was her reply.
We agreed with her that of course the magical fairy lights were there to keep us safe and guide us home.
When we finally got home, our little Rapunzel was asleep before her head had properly settled into her pillow. We drank cups of tea, both pretty bemused by the cuteness of the whole conversation.
The reality was that because she’s always at home in bed by 7.30pm, she’s never been in town in the dark; well, not that she remembers anyway.
And she taught us a lesson. Because while Mammy and Daddy saw nothing but the familiar streetlamps along the town streets, if we had bothered, we could have seen something much more exciting and wonderful.
Through the eyes of a three year old, the industrial sized orange light-bulbs were actually the magical glow of the fairies who were lighting the road to make sure that our wee family made it home safely.
So while I like to think that I am good at seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, I’m only a novice in comparison to Mini-me! But I’ll never look at the streetlamps in the same way again.
I wish I had her perspective of the world and I hope that Mini-Me always sees her world through her extraordinary little eyes.
I am Streetlamp Mum. 🙂
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