addendum

Today is Kindergarten Eve. During Gabriel's nap, I asked Frances if she'd like to do some reading or painting together. She declined.

Let's just be together, she said. Let's have secret time together. Like, secret just-girls time. We'll be like grown ups, just us, having our time together.

Well, that sounded good to me. We bustled around the kitchen, talking, and eventually I asked if she wanted to do some yoga with me, thinking it might help ease some of the tension I could see mounting in her little body.

But, Mama, we can't talk when you do yoga! You have to breathe all the time!

I assured her we could talk. So we did some silly poses. I gave her a little massage on the mat and jiggled and bounced her arms and legs til they were like wet spaghetti. I did some asanas on my own, with her crawling under the bridge my downward dog makes. In the middle of my triangle pose, Frances sat back for a moment and then reflected:

You look like a girl when you do yoga.

Between my noisy inhale and exhale: Like a kid, you mean?

No...no...like a person. Like a grown up person.

A 33 year old person?

Yes. Mama, you look like yourself when you do yoga. You look just like you.

I had to sit down. I told her I felt like myself when I did yoga, which is exactly why I like doing it so much! And she sat with me and struggled to get her words out, asking me about what that meant. It was an excellent conversation.

When she told me that I looked like myself, I think she was saying that she could see me. A separate me, apart from her own desires. In that moment, I looked like a person to her, not just a mama. 

Developmental leaps! For both of us, really. And tomorrow morning we drop her off at Annapolis Elementary, where she will join Mrs. Simms' kindergarten classroom. Readers, I am very stirred up.

Here is some yoga that took place in Vermont, the memory of which inspired me this afternoon. Tree pose, I think, is best experienced surrounded by trees.