It's The Little Things

I was in the kitchen a short while ago, cooking supper - roast chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, green beans, and brownies - and unloading the dishwasher. My daughter, age six, was at the kitchen table coloring.

"Butterflies come from caterpillars," she said suddenly.

"Mmmhmmm. Is that so?" I asked absently, stacking drinking glasses in the cupboard.

"Yes," she continued. "Caterpillars make a chrysalis or cocoon, and after they're done sleeping for a while, they come out and make a butterfly."

I smiled, looking at her happy face and seeing how proud she was to share this tidbit with me.

Moments later, her brother called from upstairs, where he was playing a computer game. She put down her crayon and ran up the stairway.

"What?" I heard her say, banging open the playroom door.

"Tree frogs have red eyes," came his reply.

"I know that," she answered.

"Lions live in the savannah and chase prey."

"What kind of prey?"

I couldn't hear the answer to that one. The playroom door had closed, leaving me with temporary quiet and the smell of the brownies baking.

When the door burst open again, two pairs of feet came pounding down the stairs, and I wondered if they were playing elephant.

"Mom!" cried the girl. "Do I smell brownies?"

"Yep," I said. "Brownies with peanut butter swirls."

"Oh, my! I love peanut butter! You're the best brownie-baker in the world!"

"I want some too," her brother chimed in.

I looked at them both, caterpillars and tree frogs and lions all pushed out of their heads with the thought of warm brownies for dessert after supper. I heard the pouring rain slap against the kitchen window, and was all the happier for the sweetness of enjoying the little things in life.