He sits in his room shooting hoops, except the basketball is an item of clothing from his clean laundry pile and the basket is the top shelf of his closet. With a throw that resembles magic in motion, he lands each piece precisely where he wants it without ever leaving the comfort of his desk chair. This chair swivels as well so as I watch him from the doorway, I inquire, "Is that how you put your laundry away?" He refrains from gracefully arc-ing yet another tshirt in the air and seamlessly turns to me saying, "Yep".
Seventeen years old tomorrow this Michael Jordan of the laundry will be. I reminisce back to 17 years ago today- I was waddling, hot, waiting, ready. I was about to have child #3 and then we would be done. But with children numbers 1 and 2 already having taken over the house, I knew the longer this one stayed unborn the easier my life would be, even if I was more uncomfortable than a whale out of water .
The next day the doctors decided that 2.5 weeks was a little too overdue and that this baby was going to be meeting his parents in just a few hours. As I walked in my lovely gown into a sterile environment, I looked over at the waiting warming tray that was about 21 inches long and knew that although I felt fine at the moment, soon I would be plunged into the laborious kingdom and would have to follow through until child #3 joined us in the room as a participant in this whole adventure.
I was ready to run.
The story has a happy ending as Spencer came into the world just before lunchtime on July 6, 1994, which was a very good thing as I was mighty hungry that day. And when child #3 goes home from the hospital he just naturally blends in with #1 and #2 and before you know it, he's driving his own car and shooting his own hoops of clean clothes.
And his mother is standing at the doorway just taking it all in with a smile.
Happy Birthday to my youngest!