The weather changed and now we have a fire and pajamas at 1 p.m. The clouds rolled in and I battened down the hatches with picture books and big legos in the living room. We added a heaping dose of cartoons and that lazy feeling that comes when raindrops crash into pansies outside your window.
|I didn’t brush my hair but I did make coffee!|
The boys went outside with the sunshine, and I watched them from the window as they marched around in their pajamas, carrying worms, dead and alive alike. Shel later informed me they were “taking care of the worms”. I was too lazy to find out if he meant it like a mobster or like a veterinarian.
We had a dance party in the living room after Indiana Jones and his Nameless Assistant found treasures in the closet, despite the laser beam boobie trap door. The baby has stayed by his window seat. In the kitchen he kneels and pushes cars around for hours. I’m just glad he’s stopped climbing onto the counters.
|The window seat where all the blurry, happy action happens.|
I made coffee just now, while everyone sleeps off their runny noses. It’s quiet and the whir of the machine and the clink of the sugar bowl seemed sacred somehow. I’m going to curl up by the fire. Today I’m not thinking about anything, not planning anything, not worrying about anything. I’m just hanging around with the natives. I’ll watch them fly rockets around the couch. I’ll listen to the baby talk about the moon (he is obsessed. Everything round and white is “MOON!”). And I’ll forget this day, where nothing happened. I’ll forget about the dances and the adventures and the way the coffee smells so sweet next to the fireplace.
So I’ll write it down because I want to remember. I want to remember the simple nothings of life, the quiet drama of a rainy Friday where no one goes anywhere and we just eat leftovers for dinner.