I try to hide my pride and delight and simply say, “Where should we go? Baxter Woods?”
He replies, “No, we can just walk through the neighborhood streets. It is so peaceful when nobody is outside.”
We decide to walk to Black Cat Cafe first. We share a bagel and a chocolate croissant from Standard Baking Co. for breakfast, two things I rarely eat. I watch as my son cuts through the croissant to share and he gives me the bigger half. We then walk with his hot chocolate and my Americano over towards the cemetery and walk talking and sipping. We stop to hear birds, we laugh, we hold hands. He describes the Greek stone columns we walk by and we investigate the monument for Baxter. His desires lead the way.
The magic of the weekend morning lingers and warms me. I know that I’m a decent mother in moments like this. I also know that my son has formed a deep connection to the natural world, one that will comfort him his entire life. And for this, I will be eternally grateful.