“Teatime,” announced Mom, rising from her chair.
The little girl’s head perked up, and her tongue–that little pink mouse that danced
from side to side on her lips as she colored–disappeared inside her mouth.
Big excited eyes turned to her playroom, where she knew her dolls lay in wait.
Her feet touched the floor, and off she sprang toward the playroom.
“Hold it right there, Missy,” called Mom, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
The girl turned with eyes asquint to look at Mom and the open book and crayons
on the kitchen table. She traced her steps to the table and deposited the crayons
into a pink box. Animated, she closed the coloring book and returned both items
to the drawer where they’d remain until the next day when she and Mom would
sit at the table; Mom with a book to read and the girl with hers to color.
What a beautiful routine they had.
The little girl glanced over in Mom’s direction again, and this time Mom’s smiling
eyes met the girl’s eyes approvingly. Nodding, she skipped off to the playroom.
Her eager-eyed girlfriends were already gathered around the round table by the
window with the frilly curtains. They sat facing fine porcelain antiquities that
Grandma said, with sentimentality, belonged to Mommy when she was little.
The girl curtsied. “It’s 3 o’clock–teatime, my lovelies,” she said to them.
She went through the motions, preparing and pouring the (pretend) hot tea
into dainty cups sitting atop matching saucers and sweetening each with
condensed milk. Puffed up with pride at being the big sister, she settled
into the only empty seat around the table and began a conversation with
the dolls.
By the time Mom entered the playroom carrying cookies and a glass of milk,
the girl had exhausted every topic she could think to talk about with her dolls.
The dolls, droopy-eyed and slouching in their chairs, stared at their empty cups
as the girl told Mom everything she had discussed over tea with them.
What beautiful made-up stories the girl told. And Mother listened.
Can you relate? Were you anything like the little girl? What was your relationship
with your mother like? I’d like to know.
And now that girl is not little anymore. And have you heard–all grown up now,
she’s pacing the floor, waiting for her first book of poetry to be born. Won’t you
lend her your support? Thanks a million.
Doll Image by Janice Brown from Pixabay
THANKS FOR READING
I Wish You Miracles.
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This was such a cute story, Selma! The only thing I would say is that I was craving some more details: how was the girl animated? What kinds of stories did she tell?
As for whether I was like the little girl, I don’t think I was ever really one for playing tea. I loved your dedication to your mother though– mine passed away about five years ago.
Your site is beautiful, by the way. I love all the pictures and how functional it is!
Kasey, you sweet one. Thanks for swinging by. I see what you mean about wanting more details. I’ll provide more next time. I really thank you for dropping by to check and for commenting. All the best, I Wish You Miracles, Selma.
What a lovely & smartness girl story.
Now that girl is not little anymore…she’s making her stories and dreams come true👌
Beautiful picture choice.
dropped a Congratulations for you over a Sadje G post… and another one here personally.
Congratulations again, dear Selma. 🎉🎉
… And now that girl is not little anymore…she’s making her stories and dreams come true👌
🤍✨🤍
I never hard this sort of ritual. Growing up with brothers, I was more into cycling, playing hockey and cricket and shooting from the Bobby gun.
It’s such a beautiful story. I am transported to my childhood days.
rituals are so very important and never forgotten. I had a challenging relationship with my mother from the time I was 4, things changed for her, but I do remember her making certain foods that we loved.
Selma what a beautiful story! HUGE CONGRATULATIONS!
How lucky you were! My mother never played with us. I spent a lot of time with my girls and their friends–I watched many a play–and read to them daily. And we see each other usually on Sundays now that they are adults. So in a way we have a routine as well. (K)
Selma, a wonderful start to my weekend! 😀😀 You write with such a deft light touch, with the detail adding depth and immediacy to the story. I love the description of the dolls at the end of the tea-time, how the girl then regales her mother with their discussions. It captures the magic and wonder of such moments. Yes, I recall these times with my mother very well; for us it was Barbie dolls and precious times together which I replicated with my son and his teddies. There were rather many of these (up to 30 at a time!) so LOTS to chat about!😀 Thank you for sending me down memory lane this morning! xx
Selma, you described your memory as a little girl so beautifully and vividly. I felt like I was there with you and your little friends drinking (pretend) hot tea. I had a good relationship with my mom, but I didn’t play with baby dolls. I loved Barbies, and I still have all of them. My daughter played with them when she was little, and I just can’t bid them farewell. If we have a granddaughter, maybe she’ll enjoy their company even though they’re old and outdated. But who says old and outdated can’t be lovely! Thanks for sharing and your photos are beautiful too. Can’t wait for your book also! xoxo
little big girl grow up with the same innocence and excitement. I only have the memory of reading to my children. It is happening Selma.. exciting! 👏
The little girl is a woman on fire today. And I’m humbled by my beginnings and proud to be in the company of people/bloggers who know that the wins are for all. Not just me. That’s how I see it. And yes, it IS happening. xoxo Thanks for being here, dear Cindy. Blessings.
I so agree with Selma. It’s a pleasure indeed to be here with you! ❣️
Likewise, my friend. (((Hugs)))
🤗🤗