A Happy Little Life

It's a rambling night. A night where not-so-sleepy-because-he-took-a-nap dooga is playing in his room with his cars and dominoes, two headlamps, and the LED lantern Grandma bought him. Leaving mommy time to blog.

The night where daddy plays racquetball with his buddies. And comes home sweaty and happy.

The night where wind is blowing all the loose yellow and red leaves to the ground, leaving those bare branches that whisper *snow*.

It's been a rambling week so far. The kind where we make sandwiches five minutes before hunger strikes. The week of playing when the spirit moves. And watching more Curious George episodes than ever before.

The only thing that hasn't been rambling is my lost cell phone. At least I can't hear it rambling. It's on "silent". Doh.

I listened to some poignant poetry last night -- a live reading (by the author) at the University. It inspired me.

And now, since I'm still rambling, I have to share with you "A Minute From the Life of a 3-Year-Old".

So. Peter finishes watching "Ten Little Monkeys" (starfall.com version) and comes out of his room, looking just a teeny bit sad. I say "Peter, are you sad?" and a little tear threatens to escape his left eye. He says..."she gave him flowers" with a little sigh. Awwwwww! {The song ends with the female monkey swinging through the trees with a handful of flowers for her new husband -- the lyrics are something like "one little monkey with his little wife, have a _______ and a happy little life."}

He was touched.

So we cuddled. He vacillated between smiling and crying softly. We talked about when he would get a happy little wife. And she might give him flowers.

Then he wanted a blanket to wrap around us while we rocked. I hummed the tune of the song. We rocked. He drifted off to sleep.

It's probably been more than two years since I've rocked my eldest to sleep. 

And it may be the last time.  

What sweet memories.

Sometimes, being a mom is super dooper sweet.