We were in that post-bedtime crazy-making part of the day. I had given them all I’m going to give, I had done all the talking and listening I was going to do with a happy heart, and they were testing God’s protection in their lives by pushing me to my very limits.
I mean, come on. The fire place was blazing, I was settled onto the couch next to Peter with my little tiny cup of HaagenDaz (caramel cone, thank you very much), and we had just started the next episode of Parenthood. Enter at your own risk, people.
The boys were bickering or laughing or asking for snacks or some other such something, and I’m telling you, I was done.
But here’s what happened.
Peter said, “Just one moment, babe. I’ve got this.”
He went upstairs, and I listened as he said, “Men, what’s happening right now? No, you have had all the drinks you need. Nope, you’ve had all the snacks too. No, it’s time for sleeping now. What’s happening with you, here on the floor? No, that’s not what we’re doing right now, gentlemen.”
And then it got quiet, and it was the first time I didn’t have to do it all myself. And, I swear to you, it was better than a thousand little cups of Haagen Dazs and all the great dramedies in the world.
He came back to his spot next to me, and I kissed him right on the lips.