Squish’s eyes grew big as he watched.
“I’ve never seen that before! How do you do that?” he breathed in open admiration. “Do it again?”
How could I say no? His giggles turned to guffaws.
“Show me how again!” he begged. “I want to do that! “
And my heart smiled.
We never know which of our skills and abilities and innate desires our kids will inherit.My great-grandmother quilted, but neither of her daughters were ever as passionate. My grandmother knitted and sewed, but none of us got that gene.I am a writer, but the Padawan would rather stick forks in his eyes than complete a creative writing assignment. And don’t get him started on grammar.
I have tried to pique the big kids’ curiosity before. They smiled, feigning interest to make me happy, but they never showed a desire to follow in my footsteps. I’m learning that I can’t force things like this.
But now there’s my Squish, who seems so excited about it that I could just hug him. Seeing his enthusiasm about what I do fills me with joy and hope. Maybe it won’t die with me. Maybe, just maybe, if his interest holds and I don’t burn him out, there will be one other person in this family that can put the toilet paper on the spindle. The future looks bright, indeed.