A lifetime ago when Maddie was about two years old, she fell in love with a song. Her teacher at the daycare center used to play a song called Sticky Sticky Sticky Bubble Gum, and oh, how Maddie loved that song. She would toddle around the house singing that song in her little voice that I can now scarcely remember.
“Ticky ticky ticky buddle gum, buddle gum, buddle gum,” she would sing. I would clap my hands and rejoice as only a new mommy can. In my effort to give her the world, I bought Maddie the CD so she could play the song at home on her durable red and yellow Fisher Price CD player. Gosh, Maddie loved that song.
It has been a long time since Maddie attended that daycare.
Tonight I was in the laundry room folding endless piles of clothes when I heard it. Sticky sticky sticky bubble gum, bubble gum, bubble gum. My hands froze mid-fold, and I cocked by head to listen. Sure enough, that CD was playing somewhere in the house.
I followed the music until I was standing in the doorway of the playroom. There was Katie, playing school. She was standing at the easel, surrounded by her students: teddy, dolly, fluffy green dinosaur, and sparkly unicorn. They were listening attentively as Katie taught them the words and movements to the song. “It’s almost story time,” she told her attentive class when the song was over, and I slipped out of the doorway before she caught me spying.
I walked back to the laundry room and felt my eyes sting with tears as I remembered little Maddie, two years old with a head full of curls that would soon disappear. Then I smiled at that sight of Katie, five years old and in firm control of her classroom of stuffed animals.
I began to hum as I folded our shirts.
Sticky, sticky, sticky, bubble gum….