The greatest thing about having small children is that your bag is always filled with snacks.
I’m sitting at my desk, starving, on a tight timeline to finish work. Leaving to grab food feels out of the question, it would take too long. Better to push through until I get home so I don’t lose a minute.
I reached down into my backpack to grab my notebook, and there it was: a granola bar. Not just one, but three.
They’ve been silently stacking in there, and thanks to all the pockets of the Cooper Backpack, hiding. They were tossed in at the last second every time we rushed out the door, as insurance against a hangry meltdown.
What’s the lesson here?
Have children!
Hahah, no no…
The lesson is this: sometimes the thing that saves you was packed by a version of you who knew you’d need it.
I didn’t put those granola bars in there for myself. I put them there to prevent chaos. But somewhere along the way, they became an insurance policy for me.
We think we’re preparing for one crisis, but we’re actually stocking ourselves for a future moment we can’t yet see. Past-me, rushing out the door, saved present-me from crashing at my desk.
Maybe I should trust her a little more.
With love,
Maria