On the way home from ballet class, Coco likes to pontificate. Maybe it’s being immersed in the arts for an hour, pointing toes, demi-plié, and all that. l’m generally bored and anxious to get home knowing I have dinner to cook and another little child to get into bed.

Coco is oblivious to the traffic and my mood.

Mommy - why does my brain tell me so much? It tells me to move my legs, my arms. It talks to my stomach, makes me hungry. And then it talks to me all the time - telling me to do stuff, to think stuff. Why does it talk to much?

While waiting for ballet to get out, I finished a book written by Thich Nhat Hanh called A LifeTime of Peace. It’s a compilation of letters and thoughts about, well, peace. There are thoughts about peace in the world, peace with your loved once, and even peace in doing the dishes. A lot of the book is about quieting the mind - that rattling that wears us down to nubs. Coco’s entering the world of "us adults" and the world of the mind. I realized that all that talking she does - that which drives me nuts - is slowly going to fold inside her SELF. When she passes a store window and says: Mommy can I buy that? Or when we’re in the pool, she’ll say: When are we going to make snow angels again? Or when we’re driving home from ballet she’ll say: Why does my brain talk so much?

Thich Nhat Hanh gives these great simple ideas to quite the mind, to become mindful. Even when washing the dishes and brushing our teeth.

"Brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth,
I vow to speak purely and lovingly.
When my mouth is fragrant with right speech,
a flower blooms in the garden of my heart."

Coco starts getting a little upset if I don’t reply. I have a hand signal that I give her to let her know that I am doing some dangerous driving maneuver and can’t speak. She quiets for a bit as I merge (and I tell you merging in Costa Rica is a miracle every time it happens without incident since there are basically no lanes to merge!)……The guy behind me honks because I guess I merged a little too tightly for his tastes; I merge again; hit a bottleneck; and finally get off the freeway.

Mommy when are we going to that restaurant again? Mommy when can we stay in the hotel for a week?

I put my hand up again in order to preserve my sanity the last 400 meters until we reach home. Coco will have to start all over again to learn how to quite the mind that once lived in the moment so purely. She can take it from her mother, it’s not easy. After dinner, I am actually looking forward to doing the dishes. As Thich Nhat Hanh said:

"While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes. At first glance, that might seem a little silly: why put so much stress on a simple thing? But that’s precisely the point. The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is a wondrous reality. I’m being completely myself, following my breath, conscious of my presence, and conscious of my thoughts and actions. There’s no way I can be tossed around immediately like a bottle slapped here and there on the waves."

Mommy? Coco says as I’ve just about finished with the last plate. "When are we going to the beach again?"

For a just a second, I wished for a few more dirty plates.