A Breadcrumb Trail of Childhood

Recently I hopped online to find a small gift for Caiden’s math teacher, who is very pregnant and preparing to go on maternity leave. I decided on a gift I’ve given many new moms before—a WubbaNub infant pacifier. Not just any WubbaNub, though. It had to be the “red dog,” because it was Caiden’s absolute favorite, quickly becoming his go-to for self-soothing.

I vividly remember buying not one, but five or six of these pacifiers back in the day. They were our golden ticket to a full night’s sleep! Every evening we’d sprinkle them around Caiden’s head before he drifted off, ensuring he could always grab one with his chubby little fingers when he needed it. It worked like a charm.

As I added the pacifier to my cart, I thought about including a children’s book—something that had been a favorite of Caiden’s. Within seconds, I remembered his most beloved stories, the ones we read so often that I could recite them by heart. Into the cart went The Day The Crayons Quit. I couldn’t help but smile, recalling how just two months ago Caiden and I rediscovered that book in his closet. My 15-year-old and I snuggled up and read it together, and for a few moments I saw the little boy he used to be—the one who’s been gone for quite sometime now.

But I didn’t stop there. Next, I searched for What Do You Do With An Idea. That book led us to its sequels, What Do You Do With A Problem and What Do You Do With A Chance. While these weren’t baby books, they resonated deeply with my son in grade and middle schools. After reading them, he shared his dream of inventing something that would revolutionize transportation—an idea kinder to the environment than even electric vehicles. It’s a dream he still holds today and part of why he’s chosen to pursue Engineering in college.

Finally, I couldn’t resist adding Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus. I would have given the teacher our copy, but it’s safely sealed in a box labeled “Caiden’s Most Special Books,” waiting for the day, hopefully, when he’ll read them to his own kids.

As I reviewed my cart and saw the pacifier alongside the three books, I suddenly found myself in tears. It struck me that I was staring at a breadcrumb trail of Caiden’s childhood—a bittersweet reminder that those cherished chapters are behind us, complete. This teacher and soon-to-be mom is about to begin her motherhood journey, while I’m nearing the closing of mine.

Part of me would give most anything to go back, even for just a day. To read children’s stories with Caiden, finger paint together, draw him a bath, snuggle up for an episode of Clifford the Big Red Dog or Wild Kratts. To listen to his animated, high-pitched little voice enthusiastically ask endless “would you rather?” questions.

But there’s another part of me that melts into his strong, man-sized arms when he wraps me in a morning bear hug. I delight in hearing his thoughtful perspectives on politics, world events, and social norms. I beam with pride watching him play his saxophone, whether it’s with the Youth Jazz Orchestra or with his school’s rock band. And his quick, adult humor often has me laughing until I’m in tears.

I’m endlessly curious about where his path will lead—the extraordinary things I’m certain he’ll accomplish. His life feels like a can’t-put-it-down book, one I wish I could skip ahead in, just to see how the story unfolds. But, instead, I savor each page, each moment, as the days, months, and years stream by.

These tears caught me off guard—triggered by something as simple as choosing a gift for my son’s beloved teacher. But at the end of the day I’m grateful, grateful for it all.

I hope this new Mom, 15 or so years down the road, will have her heart break, just a little, when she looks back on children’s books she read over and over and over again to her own. Or, she remembers feeling such triumph when she figured out a clever way to help her newborn sleep contentedly through the night.

When we’re in it it’s so hard to grasp how fabulous - and fleeting - these chapters truly are.

Oh my sweet Caiden. Thank you, for a million things. But today, thank you for the gift of an incredibly wonderful childhood—one that makes the simple act of buying a few items in an Amazon cart hurt in the most beautiful way.