Melodious Morning

Conversations with my 7-year-old.

At breakfast this morning, my little one says, “I love that the birds are singing to us every morning again.”

I listen for a minute. Huh. There they are. “It is nice,” I agree. Why does my child have to notice the little things in life like that for me? I’m not doing anything—I should be in the moment. I’m not. Kids are so great for bringing you back to reality. Sometimes even in a good way.  

I just sip my coffee and listen to them chirp. “Wait until spring is here in a few weeks…”

“One week. Plus three days.”

“Yes,” I say. “One week. Then…”

“Plus three days,” he corrects.

“Yes,” I say again, “that’s the equinox. Spring. Right. Anyway, the birds will be chirping and singing and sounding so, um…”

“Melodious. They’ll sound melodious.”

Yes, my beautiful little boy, that’s exactly the word I was going to use before I finished my coffee this morning. Definitely not “good” or anything.