I still lay down at night with Blake, 5, and Dylan, 4, as they go to sleep. Often, I am impatient for them to drift off, so I can get on with my exciting evening of laundry and dishes and Facebook. But I try to remind myself that they will not be small forever, and they surely will not want me in their room when they are 12 and 11, and I will miss this time then. (Right??)
Sometimes, in the dark, they whisper with me. It's lovely to hear their quiet voices after a day of mostly shouting over each other. And in their exhaustion, the conversations rarely disappoint.
From tonight:
"Mom, are we made of meat?" Blake asked.
"Um, I guess, in a way."
"Well, what parts of the body are made of meat?"
"Uhhh.... All of them?"
"I don't look like meat."
"I guess any part that is a muscle is kind of like meat. But no one eats people, so we don't really think of our muscles as meat."
"Sharks eat people."
"I guess you're right."
"Unless it's a vegetarian shark."
Yes, one day I will miss this.
