Dear Ducky,

There is about 0.0% chance you’ll remember today.  Meaningless, Friday type of day, in a long line of busy December days.  Maybe even I will forget it, which would be a tragedy.  I picked you up quite early from school for your follow up appointment with our pediatrician.  I didn’t even breath on the follow up scales, not wanting to know.  Dr. K was quite amused I had not calculated your scores, but even I have restraint in the face of abject fear.  What if Strattera wasn’t really working?  What if I was living in a placebo-fueled mirage these past 8 weeks?  What if I spent years being a Scientific Medical Liaison for a compound that didn’t help my child?  What if I spent a full year freaking out at the possibility that I might have to put you on my drug, only to have it not work?  The world is a dizzying array of “What Ifs”, and I promise it’s a game you’ll never win.

As it turns out, your scores plummeted (which is the direction we wanted), and to no surprise of your doctor’s, your ADHD seems to be taking a major vacation.  Certainly that is true at home, but now it’s officially true at school too.  I’m so happy we made this choice, for so many reasons, so just know that no one could have put more thought into your medication than I have.  Driving you back to school would have put us there 45 minutes before the end of the day, so Daddy volunteered to pick up Kelly, and we were free to stay home.  What?  Unexpected free time?  HEY!  Let’s stop by the mall.  I need mascara.  WOO HOO!!!, you replied.

And here’s where the day got went from great to downright fun: you Sara, YOU my dear, are a blast in the mall.  We stopped at the perfume display at Sears and tried on so much perfume, people near us surely choked.  You were so excited that Juicy Couture smelled like sugar that you announced it to everyone in the vicinity, “SKITTLES!  HEY!  I smell like Skittles!  I have to have this!  Well, I can’t have it, because I’m only 6, but YOU should buy this!  You’ll smell like a bag of Skittles!!!” We browsed Holiday jewelry, trying to decide what would sell best at The Gifts War.  At that point, a cookie felt obligatory.  As we sat, you begged me for a Sara baby story, and I told you of the day we spent at the mall near your 6 month birthday.  After your portraits, you fell asleep, and fearing I’d wake you by going out in the cold, I walked and walked you around the mall.  As the world’s most non-sleeping baby, I would have stayed there all night, if it meant you slept. Grandma and Grandpa had mailed me some birthday mad money, and I bought the most beautiful raspberry velvet jacket.  I called Grandma on my cell phone to tell her all about it.  We mourned L.S. Ayres going out of business.  We talked about your picture taking session, and how she was looking forward to putting it in a frame. The next day, with no warning whatsoever, while putting on her shoes to go bowling, Grandma moved to heaven.  Sitting in the mall with you 6 years later, watching shoppers stroll by as Grandma and I used to do, smelling like Chantilly Lace (a lot of Chantilly Lace), it was all I could do to stop my tears. But they were tears of happiness once we started guessing what kind of pie Grandma and G.G. were eating in heaven; then we couldn’t stop giggling (mostly because you corrected me and said Grandma was eating pie, but G.G. was eating cannoli.  Touche Little G.G., touche.).

We headed off to get my mascara, and as we walked, you labeled every store as “a teenager store” or “a not teenager store”.  When I asked you if you’d like to walk into a “teenager store”, you peered wide-eyed in the windows, and said, “OH NO.  Not yet.”  Well thank God for small miracles.  At Sephora, a full face of makeup was required.  Not for me…for you!  After looking at every single product in the store, you walked out looking ready for prom.  We’ve decided the crystal-studded Hello Kitty mirror compact is surely priceless.

Thirsty?  Of course!  Lemonade break for you, where you watched pretzels being made enraptured.  Everyone in line got a kick out of watching you yelp, “OH!  Mommy!  You HAVE to see this!  They spin it (using full hand motions for illustrative purposes), and then…it’s a PRETZEL!”  I grabbed a coffee, and you were so sweet sitting in the chair at Starbucks, everyone there complimented you as well.  “Mommy, I’m 6 now, so I’m just going to sit right here in this chair to wait.  It’s comfortable, and I’m big enough to sit in it, because you know, I’ve DONE THIS BEFORE!  Just sitting while Mommy is in line!”

While I’m sure we eventually had to be home, there felt to be no rush.  We meandered out, talking about this, that, and the other thing.  When we passed the iPhone cases, you pointed to the glittery ones and said, “Those iPhone cases are for teenagers.”  Ah, yes, here it is again: Sara’s fascination with all things teenager-y.  I wish I could get a picture of your face as we pass the middle schoolers every morning in school.  You peer into the cafeteria where they are milling about (i.e. goofing off and being so sweetly tween-y), and your eyes are a mixture of fascination and fear.  What are they talking about?  Why are they roughhousing and laughing at the same time?  How many Uggs can these girls own?  I told you that you’d have a phone when you are a teenager, you stopped dead in your tracks, and let out a giggle that is so quintessentially little voice Sara, I bust a gut myself.  You’ve had the same tiny giggle since birth, and it’s like hearing bells ringing in heaven whenever I hear it.

When we got home, we milled about for a bit, waiting for Daddy & Kelly to bring us their endlessly wide perma-grins. Those 2 are quite the pair; nothing breaks their stride.  We tried engaging in our usual tasks, but our hearts weren’t in it.  Within a few minutes, we were cuddling on the couch, watching every video we could find on Starling Murmuration.  “How are they doing that?  Why aren’t they bumping into each other?  Do you think they are trying to talk to us?” Is there anything better than cuddling next to the Christmas tree in a warm house, watching miraculous flights of birds?

Why can’t perfect afternoons last forever?  Alas, the clock kept ticking, and within an hour we were packed and dressed for playdates at friends’ houses and Daddy’s Office Christmas Party.  Let another busy holiday weekend begin.  But Ducky, on one lazy December 9th afternoon, you and I had a couple of hours when time stopped.  With so much to celebrate and so much to look forward to, we set those thoughts aside, and just danced about in the moment.

Can you guess the best part?  We did it all smelling like Skittles.

Your biggest fan,

Mommy