Listen if I Want To

This really just happened.

Caroline, my number two, started preschool this morning. 

I sent Claire off to first grade and dropped off Caroline and thought about how it was just me and these two now.

Feeling wistful and nostalgic, I put on Barry Manilow’s “Where Does the Time Go.” I realize this song was not a universal hit, but my sister and I both danced with our dad to it after we got married. The chorus:

Where, where does the time go

Must we let it end

Where, where does the time go

Gone too soon, my friend

And where, where go the echoes

Of our laughter ringing the air

Oh wherever the time goes

I will see you there.

I am literally getting chills as I type this. Barry never disappoints.

Anyhoo, number three Matthew was pretty ticked that he didn’t get to stay and play at Caroline’s preschool. So what had started as a low, persistent complaining escalated when he decided he did not like this song.

I wanted him to stop crying, so I turned it off. But who do you think was displeased with my decision?

Number four. Apparently, he has inherited a healthy respect for the great Manilow from his mom.

So there I was. Song on, number three cries. Song off, number four cries.

I decided to play (and sing) the song, even though Matthew’s cry is much louder, because I was feeling wistful about my children growing up and I was going to enjoy it.

Post script:

The caterpillars have retreated into their chrysalides and one has even emerged a butterfly.

Claire got to name two of them. The names, you ask?

Chicago and Sabotage.

Do you see why I miss them when they go?