The other morning Sprout was hovering by my elbow while I got Button out of his nighttime pajamas and into his daytime pajamas (because, after all, pandemic fashion is all about cozy comfort) and she started planning his birthday party at the end of summer.
“We can invite all of his friends to video face chat!”
I reminded her that he’s not even one year old, so most of his friends are family members, but she was breezed past that.
“We’re going to have to order his presents early so they can get here. Because we can’t go to the store.”
She made all these logistical pronouncements in a matter-of-fact way. She’s not sounding anxious or disappointed at the idea that maybe we wouldn’t be able to have family members over to our house, or get together with people in person for Button’s birthday.
She’s just internalizing and trying out a new sense of normal based on how things are going currently.
She’s had weeks of only seeing cousins, grandparents, her teachers, and some of her friends from school on the other side of a screen. She’s barged in on some of my online classes (as my unofficial TA) and told knock-knock jokes.
She misses people. She misses school. When the sadness comes, it hits in waves: peaking fast, then subsiding.
But there’s a streak of resiliency coming through as she adjusts to new routines.
Can’t have school recess with all her friends? Then every day there needs to be backyard recess with Dad. After dinner must be Family Time, lunch needs to fit a routine, and so on. She has blocks of time that make up the schedule of her day, and she even wants to stick to it on weekends.
Because right now for her, what even are weekends?
It’s not always easy, but I’m glad to see those moments where she’s rolling with the punches and finding her footing.
And I hope, as I have to adapt to the changes still to come, that I can greet the logistics of it with the same straightforward, beginner’s mind that she’s started to use.