Scooping Ice Cream

I was nothing more than a scooper of ice cream today. An ice cream scooper. That’s it. An old, and rather worn out mom serving high school seniors scoops of chocolate and vanilla on this cold Tuesday in January. That was it. That was all. 

And yet it was everything. 

Today was “senior treat day.” A day where the class parents do a little something special for the seniors—this group of kids that will be graduating in 17 weeks or so. Our children who we have been following closely from kindergarten who will be moving away from the school participation of their parents very soon. 

It’s not too soon. It’s exactly as it should be. The timing is, if not easy, then right. It is perfect, in fact. These kids God has given to us to steward and shepherd and bring treats to along the way of childhood. It has been a gift and a privilege. It has been my greatest calling as a woman.

How many cupcakes have we, if not baked, at least brought to our kid's class for birthday parties or Valentine's Days or some kind of something special program? Donuts, cookies, rice krispie treats. Can we even begin to tally it all up? It was never just about the treats, but about the touchpoints in the lives of our little ones. The times when our kids got to see us show up in some little way.

They may have gone through a cooler season where they rolled their eyes or hardly acknowledged our presence, but we came anyway. We got to walk through the doors and be the mom (or dad) with something in our hands for some always hungry school kids. We could see it in their eyes. Eyes and a smile which said, “this is my mom and she brought us something special today.”

I remember times when I barely got there. Times when I burnt the muffins or dropped the cupcakes or forgot the gluten free option. I remember the many times I had to balance the baked goods with a toddler in tow. Even times when I completely forgot to send something in altogether. It’s all a part of parenting.

I’ve been doing this school-treat type of dance for decades. Three decades, in fact.  And now only 17 weeks remain of our youngest’s senior year. I’m pretty sure bringing treats to her class in college won’t be a thing. Though I might try it out next year and see how that goes. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Professor, but I have a plate of peanut butter cookies for the class. It will just take a me minute to pass them out and then you may continue."  Can you imagine? Maybe.

Please don’t worry about me, I certainly have plenty of other things which occupy my time and attention, this is not out of nothing else to do. I am writing today because it is just one of the many simple, small things which we get to do while we still have kids under our roofs. It is actually OUR treat. 

And I am also writing today to remind those of us who have begun our countdown calendars to make the most of these 17 weeks we have ahead. These ice cream eating kids will soon be donning graduation gowns and then going off into more grown up lives. As they should. 

So scoop that ice cream. Bake those brownies. Pack that lunchbox. Wash those favorite jeans. Have that late night chat. Crawl onto their beds and listen to whatever it is they will tell you. Do the small things. They are the big things.

Treat them. 

And treat yourself.