Precious moments. We’ve all had them—those moments that make your heart catch every time you remember them. No matter how often you revisit them, they never get stale or lose their power. Tender or funny, poignant or inspiring, they fortify us against toddler tantrums and pubescent (and pre-school) power struggles.
Leave a comment sharing your moment—or, if you’re feeling ambitious enough to write a whole post (or want to link from your own blog), email me and I’ll use your story as the moment of the day.
This is how a tradition begins: at 5a.m. on a Saturday morning, Nicholas wakes up and starts whining. I stagger blindly down the hall and return with a warm bundle in baby blue, who snuggles down between our pillows. We sigh contentedly as we drift back to sleep, a trio.
Two hours later, we hear the pad-pad-pad of little footed-sleeper feet making their way down the hall. A little brown-haired girl appears by my side of the bed, big brown eyes and a nose poking over the top, saying, “Eh!” I haul her up, and she snuggles down beside Daddy.
Fifteen minutes later, bare feet pad across the hallway. “Good morning,” I hear, and my firstborn shoves my legs out of the way so he has room to climb up onto the bed. At this point, Christian begins to gnash his teeth and groan, because he knows that the arrival of Alex heralds the end of all rest. Before long, we’re tickling, giggling, and horse playing. Bliss. Pure, cuddly bliss.
The day begins in earnest when Christian decides there’s no room for him in his own bed, and he gets up to fetch the weekend paper. But the rest of us lie around for another fifteen or twenty minutes, simply enjoying life.