Another Mommy moment

So there I was, hovering about while the appliance repair guy dismantled our washing machine, when I had one of those heart-tugging moments that makes me wonder how I ever got a reputation for being a cynic. (Well, actually I know how I got this reputation, but bear with me here.)

I should probably mention that this particular appliance repair guy was the very stereotype of the breed, complete with heavy tool belt, way-too-droopy jeans and virtually no skills in the way of small talk. Even his name screamed "handyman." It was Ralph, who never did tell me his last name and was clearly the kind of guy who, if I'd asked, would have said, "Just Ralph."

As Just Ralph was quietly going about his business of figuring out why our washer's water flow was so slow that it took six hours (yes, SIX) to do a single load of laundry, I spotted a relic of Elijah's babyhood that had been hidden beneath the washer since 2003. It was a tiny sock, so little I can't believe that it ever covered even a newborn's foot.

"Oooooooh, looooook!" I squealed, visibly startling Just Ralph. "It's a sock from when my little boy was a baby!"

To say that Just Ralph didn't get it would be an understatement. "Uh, yeah, it's a baby sock," he said, clearly fumbling about for words that would calm the obviously unstable woman whose home he was in. "You, uh, gonna to keep it?"

I came to my senses and said no, not wanting to alarm him further. A hundred moments from those early months of Elijah's life flashed through my head, some pleasant, some not, but all worth remembering. And when Just Ralph finally presented his bill (and a fully repaired washing machine), I was more than happy to write that check. Normally I grumble quietly to myself every time I pay the exorbitant fees charged by handyman types, but this time, I somehow had a better sense of perspective.

And, finally, a washing machine that kicks ass!