When I see Sage seated in her little rocking chair, a small black board–an IKEA media shelf in another life–on her lap and she tells me she’s “on the computer,” my heart sinks a little.
I’m on the computer too much.
She can’t get my attention and so she’s emulating me.
She sees me working from home sometimes in our small apartment and reads it as “mommy’s not playing with us.” Even if Nate is home. Even if their sitter is with them.
So I close my own black laptop and play her game. “What are you doing with your computer sweetie? Playing a game?”
(She shouts NO! More than she ever simply says it. You know…threes.)
“I’m writing a book, Mommy.”
“You’re writing a book? What kind of book?”
“A book about me and Thal. And we’re playing and we jump and there’s Peter Pan and at the end Bart Sim-Sim comes out.”
“That sounds like a great book, Sage!”
“I’m writing a book like you.”
I thought, three year-olds pretend to be firefighters and tea party hosts and stuffed animal caretakers and fairies and princesses and doctors and Woody the cowboy. If she’s playing Be a Writer Like Mommy, that’s not such a bad thing at all.
And yes I’m writing a book. With Kristen. The book we’ve wanted to write for three years, but didn’t know what it was, and now we do. Posting here may be lighter for a bit; proposal is almost done and is making me more happy than happy.
My kids see that in me too.