The other night we got to walk over to the barn to do chores, just the two of us. How much I value one-on-one time shared between a parent and a child, but these days there are so many children in our family of five and so precious little time to invest in just one.
That night my almost-five-year-old walked behind me, mostly, shooting his toy gun at attacking wolves, stampeding buffalo, and of course the occasional vagrant. But he was convinced he would beat me to the barn in the end. When he sped by me for the tenth time grinning mischievously, I teased, “Slow and steady wins the race. Remember the tortoise and the hare?”
“No!” he hollered back at me. “Fast wins the race!”
Not so long ago I thought the very same thing. He is like a little Tami Jo. I am becoming more and more like a grown-up Tami Jo. Or like any grown-up.