You’re ready to go back to school. In fact, we’re stopping by today to do some stealthy PTA work, and I’m sure you’ll stand outside of your classrooms and salivate. Not to mention, you’re completely over each other. Enough of the Wii. Enough of sharing friends during play dates. Enough of sharing…AIR. Yesterday I actually worried you’d suffer death by bickering. I wanted to chuck your backpacks at you and tell you to get walking. You’ll make it there by Monday morning. Go for it. And please stop saying, “Mommy”. It lost its zest after the 1 billionth repetition. Per hour.
But by bedtime last night, we’d settled the hash. You ate huge dinners. I complimented you on great hosting behavior over this past week of seeing so many dear friends. And as our day came to its end, you rushed to the ends of your beds and begged me to sing “the new song”. Last month I noticed our bedtime lullaby had grown stale. You fidgeted. You fussed. You had simply outgrown it. Lyrics, lyrics…think Mommy, think! Um, I know the a cappella version of Tom’s Diner? Before some studio added music and jacked it all up.
The original version of the song has tempo changes and inflection. You love it when I slow down with dramatic pauses at the end….”to the bells of the cath-eee-draaal…I…AM…thinking of your voice. And OF the midnight picnic once upon a time before the rain begaaan…” Your heads bobbed to match the soft rise and fall of my voice, your hands gently tapping the ends of your beds, eyes glued to mine as I mirrored the oddly detached/reflective tone of Suzanne Vega.
And I could only think how darn cool you both are. I’m so glad you’re mine, bunchy-fidgety-irritated off-your-sleep-schedule and all. I like you both so much. I’m keeping you.