This morning after Sunday school, I hurried down the hall to get Sean out of his class. Before he saw me in the crowded hallway, I spotted him tentatively coming towards me carrying his little Bible. He was wearing a worried expression. A big tear was on the verge of tumbling down the sweet terrain of his face. All of the other children had been picked up by their parents and he was the last one.
When he saw me, his face lit up with recognition and he ran towards me. I bent down on one knee with my arms open wide, ready to swoop him up, lips puckered ready to shower him with kisses and promises that I would never ever forget him or leave him behind.
And like a quarterback running for the end zone, he tucked his Bible under one arm and straight-arm blocked me with the other, knocking me out of his way. As he sailed past me, I heard him calling with unrestrained glee, “Gigi! Gigi! Gigi’s here!”
I picked myself up off the floor and unpuckered my lips just in time to see Godmother Gigi getting my kisses.
Gigi 7, Antique Mommy 0. Good thing we’re on the same team.