The morning rabbit

Last Thursday was a bad morning. We got a late start, the kids bickered, I nagged. One kid didn’t do his homework the night before and was panic-finishing a few worksheets, consulting me for answers I didn’t know. We rolled out of the house growling at each other. The kids walked around the van and froze.

“Mom! There’s a rabbit!”

I tiptoed around back bumper. The bunny was hunkered between two bushy aster plants. He fidgeted. Our voices dropped to whispers, our steps morphed from stomp to float. Everything changed. Tenderness rushed in as we cooed over the little bunny. I pulled out my phone and made sure it was on silent. I zoomed in and took a few photos.

After a minute of adoration, I whispered it was time to leave for school. Everyone climbed into their seat. As I drove, the homework-shirking kid got help from a brother who has been there, done that. I thought about the rabbit. It’s not like rabbits are rare in Colorado. Squirrels are just as plentiful and they don’t freeze time and usher in familial peace. If anything, they inspire frustration, especially if you are fond of wolfing down Pedigree, have four legs, and poo in the backyard.

Too bad all our stressful moments aren’t detonated by adorable wild animals. Imagine the speeding ticket being delivered by a spotted fawn or a dentist bill flown to your door by a chubby bluebird. I can’t count on the doe-eyed and furry to disarm biting voices, but maybe I can mimic them? I can be still. I can be quiet. I can’t be cute. I’ll leave that to the kids. Whatever inspires us to tiptoe, to whisper, to tilt our heads, to smile—let’s look for them. Oh, they’re here already. My kids. My husband. Us. We are just as surprising and just as vulnerable and just as deserving of tenderness as that morning’s rabbit.