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.
Tap, tap, tap. The knock dragged me up from blissful, uninterrupted (up till then, at least) sleep. “Come in, Alex,” I said sleepily. The door skidded along its frame and swung open, and I put my hand out as he came to meet me. “What’s up, honey?”
“Mommy, I had a dream, and there was a banana storm,” he said. “And Juweanna couldn’t reach me, and Nichowuss fell in the water and I couldn’t save him. He fell off the edge.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said, waking up fully, because that was a serious dream for such a little guy. “Come on, let’s get you tucked back in.”
I shepherded him back across the hall, shaking my head at the convergence of events that led to such a dream—because I knew them all. Banana storm: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Falling in the water: Farmer Boy, which Christian had read to him at bedtime. Nicholas falling off the edge: he was scooting all over the bed while I was teaching that night, and I held onto his feet as he wiggled himself right over the edge and hung there, bemused, staring at the floor. We thought it was cute at the time, but in the dead of night, cute becomes something much darker.
“I’m glad it was a dream,” he said.
“Me, too, honey,” I said. “That’s something we can thank God for, when we wake up from a bad dream—that it’s not real.”
I tucked him in and kissed him goodnight again before heading back to bed myself. “Banana storms,” Christian chuckled. “You gotta watch out for those banana storms.”