“And who among us would deny Jane Austen her happy endings or insist that Cary Grant and Irene Dunne should not get back together at the end of The Awful Truth? There are tragedies and there are comedies, aren’t there? And they are often more the same than different, rather like men and women, if you ask me. A comedy depends on stopping the story at exactly the right moment.” Siri Hustvedt, from A Summer Without Men

Yesterday afternoon I had one of those rare, energetic flashes of motherhood craft project coordination, inspired by Jean Van’t Hul at The Artful Parent. Because of scheduling glitches my house was full of kids and I decided that the best response was to embrace it by whipping up a batch of salt dough and letting the kids get dirty and crafty.

My attention was pulled in a million directions — helping kids get scissors, rolling pins, beads, cookie cutters, paint, carving tools, pens. It was loads of fun. In a moment of pause I turned to look at my son, who normally has great difficulty engaging in craft projects of this complexity without hand-over-hand help because of his developmental disability. And what to my wonderous eyes should appear but the perfect little ornament — sculpted, painted, deckled, layered, by his own two hands from start to finish. He declared it was for his PCA, who he insisted would be “so happy, so happy” to receive it. And his PCA will be. And right now, I am happy too.

Today I chose to stop the story exactly at that moment.

Published by Cristin Lind

Facilitator, consultant, speaker for better health and care through patient-professional partnership. Passionate about helping change agents build courage and agency. She/her.

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    1. So glad you have this moment to stow away in your memory bank and warm your heart at a later date:)

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