It wasn't a holiday. It wasn't any one's birthday. It didn't mark the beginning or the end of anything. Just a normal, everyday Sunday. But, somehow, when my husband and my boys are with me and we are playing and there is no work, no trouble, no one complaining, it seems extra special.
We took the boys to the park for picnic of Happy Meals and then playing at the playground. It was a little chilly in the shade (odd for the middle of May), so our picnic was a little rushed. But once we got out into the sunshine on the playground, it was beautiful. We were the only ones there and all you could hear were the sounds of our laughter. We slid, we climbed, we swung, we ran. The boys allergies had their noses running, but for that hour, that was the only problem. For that hour, we weren't worried about money or jobs or cleaning. We just had to make sure no one fell off the slide. We just had to make sure we pushed the swings high enough.
There aren't enough moments in life like that. That's one of the reasons I'm resistant to change our bedtime routine. I lie in bed with the boys every night as they go to sleep. It's not the best way of doing things and half the time, they don't leave our bed. But for that little time, everyday, it's just me and them watching a movie or reading a book. I want more time like that with them. More cuddling in bed. More days in the park. More family time.
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