Saturday morning, we made the trip to the yonder reaches of the metroplex to see the tree house exhibit at the Dallas Arboretum. Contrary to what you might think, the Dallas Arboretum is really spectacular, even at this miserable time of the year. If you’ve never been, you will probably be surprised.
The tree house exhibit was interesting. Sean is obsessed with tree houses right now and we were expecting to see more Swiss Family Robinson style tree houses but what they featured were 13 abstract tree houses. Not what we expected, but we had a great time nonetheless.
As we traipsed across 66 acres of beautifully manicured horti-scapes (I just made that word up!) with pergolas dressed in glorious sweeping vines and tidy stone paths lined with ivy and tiny budding flowers of every color and water dancing and leaping from fountains, we apparently became intoxicated with the grandeur of it all, because we would occassionally turn to each other and say, “Wouldn’t it be nice to do that in our yard? We could do that in our yard, couldn’t we?” After indulging ourselves in an eensy bit of delusion we finally snapped out of it and remembered that a) we don’t know squat about gardening, b) we stink at gardening c) we have a mole.
In spite of the heat and that it was well beyond lunchtime, Sean was in remarkably good spirits, so we decided to stop for lunch. Dining with a toddler is always an iffy proposition, but remarkably, we made it through lunch with no incident, so I decided a reward was in order. I suggested to Sean that we go outside and play in a little nearby playground area while Daddy finished eating and waited for the check.
As Sean and I climbed out of our side of the booth and headed out, he stopped and put his hand on Antique Daddy’s knee, looked him squarely in the eye and solemnly said, “Don’t worry about Mom, Daddy. I’ll take care of her.”
I was caught off guard. Laughter and tears caught together in the back of my throat in one sweet tangle. And at that very moment it did not seem unreasonable to reach into my chest, pull out my glowing, beating heart and offer it to him.