Not to be outdone by her big sister’s Wild Night Out (much like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride but with fewer instances of public vomiting), Susannah decided it was her turn to use one of the Get Out of Jail/Bedtime Prep Free- er, Mother’s Day gift cards last night. Actually, she totally forgot she had given me a gift card at all until I asked if she wanted to have a special date with me.
“Sure! That sounds great!”
I told her we could hop the bus and grab a special treat at the glorious coffee shop known as Julius Meinl.
“Hey! I gave you a gift card to Julius Meinl!”
“I know…”
“For Mother’s Day! We could use it there!”
“…I know.”
But in poor Zu fashion, we didn’t exactly have the fanfare that Nora and I experienced- a photo together at home, a chosen playlist for the car ride, excited conversation as we prepped for our Big Date- no, Susannah got a two minute, post-bus tracker warning of “P.J., the bus will be here any second, ‘bye Jasper, gahhh where’s the gift card?!” And I promptly dragged my second kid down the block to heft and (sorta) sprint our way to the bus stop. (Guess what? We totally made it. Guess what else? Suzy asked if that was the fun part and if it was time to go back home yet.)
She loved the bus ride (“this is GREAT!”), she loved talking to the bus rider (“did you know we’re going to Julius Meinl?”), and she loved meeting every person within a fifteen foot radius of us on that CTA bus (“there are so many people going to Julius Meinl right now! Are you going to Julius Meinl? Are you?”)
It was a six minute bus ride.
When we got to the actual, honest-to-gosh Julius Meinl, we chose the fanciest booth. (The one by the window.) We informed our server that we were on a Big Kid date. We showed the couple immediately on our right the tiny salt and pepper shakers from our table. We also showed them Geo monkey. We also also asked them if they were at Julius Meinl. (At this point I began to wonder if Susannah was actively messing with me.)
She loved our table. She loved the water glasses and clinking our water glasses and drinking from the water glasses to the point where she had to stretch out in the booth because her belly was too full and happy. (“…Was this Julius Meinl?”) While we waited for the gigantic peanut butter cookie and lemonade (hers) and latte and key lime pie (mine), we talked about who her best friend at school was (“all of them”) and what her favorite thing about preschool was (“everything”).
We ate, we drank, we clinked and clinked and clinked and clinked, we tried each other’s desserts and then [one of us] wide-elbowed us away from a peanut butter cookie. Since it was still really light out when I paid the check, we decided to walk to Welles Park. This pleased Zu for many reasons, chief among them the fact that she “went there when [I] was a little girl!” (Had I mentioned that she’s three? She’s definitely three.)
As we walked, she squeezed my hand and sighed deeply. A lot. But it was a happy, deeply sighed sound, and it sounded an awful lot like a kid not currently squoze between her sister’s aptitude and her brother’s adorableness. She started out on the baby swings (“because even though I’m big, I’m still a little little”) and then moved onto the big kid swings where- I kid you not- she lifted herself onto a higher-up swing with only her core strength. No jumping up, no inertia, just sorta…like when those male gymnasts slowly rise up onto the rings using only their biceps. Kind of like that, but tinier. And clad in a sundress. (I know I’ve said it before, but this kid absolutely startles me with her athleticism.)
After each swing got its due (yes, each individual swing), she did a “balance beam” circuit of the playground- stopping only when she saw an unspoiled patch of puffy dandelions. (Sorry, park district groundskeepers.) Once we decimated a greenhouse’s worth of dandelion seeds, we tucked clover behind our ears, hopped the bus back home (“we just came from Julius Meinl!”) and snuck into our own backyard to eat mint, listen for crickets, and maybe- just maybe- snuggle up on the bench to sing a lullaby.
Maybe it was Oh, Susannah. And maybe I’ve never realized just how sweet that song is and how happy it can make someone who needs to have a moment in the day be solely theirs; independent of sibling emotions or meals or schedules. Or maybe I did know that.
But just needed a tiny, jubilant reminder.
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