Warm Slippers and Easy Bedtimes

“Ahhhtoyuk! Ahhhtoyuk!”

My little boy is lying in bed singing his Eskimo name. We walked in the dark (one of my favorite times) to Eskimo Dance tonight, completely forgetting that it was canceled because of Ash Wednesday services at the church. He was very excited about going and walked the entire way, holding my hand and pulling the sled in the other.

We greeted some friends at the church and they called him by his Eskimo name. He was shy as he often is and didn’t talk. I said our good-bye’s and he climbed into the sled for a nice quiet walk home in the cold dark with the snow crystallizing around us. Once back home, he hugged his dad good-night and ran up to bed reminding me that we should be very quiet because sister was sleeping.

And then once tucked in bed, that quiet rule was quickly dropped and he began processing out loud the events of the day.

He sang his name a few more times then spoke about the Kids Yoga DVD, sang about an alligator and now I can hear him falling asleep.

Sometimes being a parent is just so dang easy and special. I could do this every night.

Other times, such as when I was showering before dinner and little girl kept trying to throw articles of my clothing into the shower (with brother giggling away in the background) are not so easy. (“Stop” just created more giggles. “I feel frustrated” went unheeded. “Time out?” got brother taking a step away from sister, but still bright red from the giggles. “You need to be a big brother and talk to your sister” said with utter seriousness from my spot in the shower brought the words, “Sister. You may NOT throw things in the bath.” It made me want to giggle. Sister definitely did not heed his advice, but by then I was done showering and so with my free hand I grabbed my underwear before it got thrown in, turned her little body towards the door, and somehow managed to get dressed and out of there without anything more landing in the tub)

However, my socks, which I thought were dry enough, turned out to be fairly wet from their brief toss into the shower. I didn’t really process this until little boy and I were out walking to Eskimo dance and the chill began to seep in through my shoes creating a cold clammy unpleasant experience. But now, back home, with my feet in my warm Valentine’s slippers from my husband and two sleeping children, the frustrations of the day (and the cold feet) all seem so far away and everything seems quite nice.

May every night go so smoothly.