A little five year old blonde boy made his way into my bed early this morning. I didn't look at the clock but the sun was already shining so I'm guessing it was around 6 a.m. He threw his arm around my neck and fell back to sleep. Joy...for more reasons than one.
At 6:30, my alarm officially woke me. A beautiful twelve year old brunette needed to get to band camp by 7:15. With her silk in one hand and violin in the other, she smiled all the way there.
By 7:30 I was home again and a handsome thirteen year old boy sat playing his beloved XBox, peaceful and in his glory.
I made my way up to an empty bedroom with my coffee cup and laptop in hand, checking on those wonderful blogs that uplift my spirits and encourage me in faith.
Around 7:45, a sleepy eyed nine year old made his way to the kitchen, decided he wasn't hungry and settled in on the couch, under a blanket, patiently waiting his turn on the XBox.
8am: I lay back in my bed next to the still-sleeping five year old. Facing me on the pillow I notice the quick, involuntary movements one makes as they slowly start to wake up...the bending finger, the twitch of the mouth, the swallowing of saliva, and the big stretch that finally opens his eyes. I'm greeted by the story of the bad dream that brought him to my bed in the first place.
8:10. Last one up, the eight year old sweetheart, already dressed but unable to find her belt. I find it in the place where it's supposed to be, her drawer.
I wonder what other gifts this day has in store for me.