A part of parenting that is much more evident once you’re on this side of the fence is how much of it is learning to let go bit by bit and let the world at large in sliver by sliver. Sometimes it’s big things like dropping them off at daycare for the first time or watching them wave goodbye from the school bus window (or so I imagine) and sometimes it’s little things like their first juice box.
Chelle and I aren’t big juice or soda drinkers. At home, it’s pretty much water or things of things derived from water: tea, coffee, cold water, whiskey, beer. And so far for Cece it’s been milk or water until at a recent friend’s birthday party someone let slip that there was more to life’s taste buds than just the bare survival essentials. There was juice! Apple juice! And it was wonderful. Like warm sunshine. Like the Rapture. Like Elmo whispering secrets in your ear.
Now on sunny days we don’t have to watch Ce’s taped caged fights for entertainment we just punch through the foil top, give her a sip and watch her ricochet around the yard like a flea on speed.