Mother's Day…

By

Linda Delaney

 

 

Sean Pearce Nelson crept down the hall to his parents’ bedroom. The six-year-old wanted to make sure that his parents were sound asleep. He tried the doorknob, and found it locked. He held his ear against the door, and hearing no sounds, smiled, and crept slowly away. He went to the stairs, and slowly and quietly went down them.

He bounded into the kitchen, and proceeded to open cabinets, and pull out boxes, cartons, pots and pans, and went to work…

 

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About an hour later, the youngster struggled up the stairs, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray complete with flower. Carefully walking down the carpeted hall, he came to the doorway of his parents room, and stood there for a moment, considering. Then he put the tray down, and knocked softly, calling, "Poppa… Poppa, can you please come and open the door?"

He heard noises and some whispered words, and footsteps coming to the door, on the inside. As he heard the approach, he reached down and picked up the tray. The door opened, and Harriman Nelson looked down at the bright and proud face of his son.

"This is for Momma… it’s Mother’s Day you know," he said solemnly.

Nelson smiled at his son, and bent down to take the tray.  "Let me help you with that…"

"No, Poppa…s’okay… I wanna give this to Momma… I made her a card an’ all…"

"Okay, Sean, go ahead. Momma’s awake… just be..."

"I know…" he said, a tone of exasperation in his voice. "Be careful! I’m gonna be… really!"

The Admiral stood aside, and let his son carry the tray to his mother.

Karen Nelson was sitting in the bed, waiting for the men in her life to join her. She knew Sean was up to something this morning when he didn’t come into their room early, as he usually did on a Sunday morning. She and Harry had been talking about it when Sean had knocked on the door. So she had settled in and waited to see what her son had come in with.

Sean walked to the bedside, slowly bearing the tray. His father walked behind him, grinning.

"Happy Mother’s Day, Momma. I fixed you brefas’ in bed." He held up the tray, and Karen took it and settled it on her lap. Reaching over, she ruffled the little boy’s auburn curls.

"Why don’t you join me up here on the bed, and tell me what you fixed."

Delighted with the invitation, he crawled into the space between his parents. Nelson put an arm around his son’s shoulders. "It looks like you worked very hard, Sean."

The little boy nodded. "I did, Poppa, and I can’t even cook… so I had to give Momma things I could fix…" He pointed to the tray, as Karen and Harry looked on.

"Soooo … there’s a cupcake… and I fixed you peanut-butter an’ chocolate chip cookie samich, an’ an apple, an’ a glass a milk, an’ the jellybeans from Easter that I kept under my bed. An’ there’s your card, cause I made it, and a flower from the garden ‘cause you’re my momma an’ I love you…so…" He heaved a sigh, "Happy Mother’s Day, Momma… I love you!"

Karen leaned over, and enfolded the little boy in her arms… "Thank you, Sean… this is the best Mother’s Day breakfast I ever had." Laughing with her husband and son, she settled back to ‘enjoy’ her Mother’s Day breakfast.

 

(This is a little vignette that I wanted to share with all of the mothers out there; I think we’ve all been there at one time…Enjoy! Linda)

 

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