Waiting for Our World to Change . . .

One sunny morning not so long ago on the way to Lucy's daycare, "We Keep Waiting for the World to Change" was blasting on my radio. The song may be cliche, overplayed, and predictable, but you have to admit, it's catchy and happy. Luce took to it immediately, singing along with the chorus and asking for me to play it again and again and again and again. (Unfortunately, the concept of "we have no control over what plays when" radio is pretty foreign in her world of DVR, OnDemand, and YouTube.) The song has only played once in the car, and still, at least a month later, Lucy asks at least once every other day for "Waitin' for the World to Change" as I strap her in the carseat. It's an appropriate song for this stage in our family's life for a lot of reasons (mostly the 41 weeks pregnant one), but here I want to capture a snapshot of gratitude for the waiting.

Because Xander/Zander has chosen to take his sweet time, we have had an incredible week of "just the three of us" moments:

*Playing in mommy and papa's bed in the morning, mostly involving gleefully hiding in the blankets and finding each other.
*Baking brownies together. Not screaming due to sleep deprivation when huge raw egg messes result.
*Taking slow walks around the neighborhood. Pausing to slip off our sandals to feel sand on our toes.
*Pushing a baby doll around in Lucy's stroller at the Farmer's Market. Cracking up at the shocked look on people's faces when they peek into the stroller expecting to see a baby, and being greeted instead by a maniacal-smiling plastic replacement.
*Looking through photo albums of Lucy's birth and toddlerhood and talking a lot about what is to come.

I could go on and on, but you get the point. Sometimes flowers sprout right there in fields of frustration. I know in less than a week "just the three of us" will have morphed into "just the four of us", and our world will have indeed, totally and completely changed. So, since this current world ain't so bad itself, I might as well take a moment to relish it . . .