Our Memorial Day weekend was filled with all the things a summer weekend is supposed to have. We had visits from friends and family, we went to a Cubs game, we went downtown to site see with tourists, we went to the pool, we sat on the porch and drank with friends, we had a last minute slumber party, we went to a parade and used the grill.

There were so many good things, cousins and cute kids but my favorite moment came early in the weekend. On Friday, we went to the Cubs game with our visiting family. My first cousin, his wife, and their two kids, ages four and two. My 10-year-old was over the moon about the idea of missing school for a Cubs game. My 12-year-old was happy to miss school and eat nachos for lunch. She brought a book to read at the game.

I had forgotten that baseball games are not as much fun with small kids. They need to walk around. My cousins walked their kids up and down and around. But around the fourth inning it became clear that the little ones needed to go. My cousin and his wife also had plans that evening, and she wanted to try and rest a little first. I’m happy with half a ball game and my daughter was more than happy to leave early. So, the women and small children headed out leaving my husband, son, and cousin at the game.

In between El stations, we got caught in the one major rain storm of the day. Already soaking wet, we ducked inside to wait out the worst of the horizontal rain. When the rain went back to a drizzle, we made our way up the El stairs. My cousin-in-law carrying stuff, me carrying the stroller and my drenched 12-year-old, a small, wet, tired, and sniffly child in each hand, making her way up the stairs.

All the way up she said little things “That’s right Owen, we’re almost there. You can do it Isabelle, just keep going.”

She sounded so natural, I almost didn’t notice at first. When I did it took my breath away, “Look at you, you’re a star Madeline,” I said to my baby girl.

An older woman had been walking patiently behind us, “That’s right, that is a responsible young lady. She IS a star!” She said as much to me as to my daughter.

We got to the platform and I turned to catch the older woman’s eye. She nodded at me, “That’s right. That’s how we do it,” she murmured as much to herself as to me.

That’s right, that is how we do it.