One boy turned five today (five!). His observations inspire us, his dancing brings us to tears and his agility leaves us speechless. One part stunt man, one part guitar shredder, one part aeronautical engineer, one part theologian, one part naturalist. Where will he land? I cannot even fathom.
The other boy, a week from two, finds plenty to do with two chubby feet outside of walking. If it involves water, all the better. Cuddler, destroyer, singer, greeter, avid Good Night Moon reader, with a penchant for anything bitable in the vicinity of his teeth. Every day a little less a mystery, a little more a boy, loud and silly and mischievous. Where will these feet take him in another year? I cannot even fathom.
My life is filled with mayhem, mystery, marvels and madness, every single day. Some days I like it. Some days I am too tired to even notice. Some days I think someone is going to be hurled out a window if I don't get a minute to myself. But most days I can't believe I got so lucky. NPR's Steve Simon wrote it perfectly in his essay At My House, Every Day is Mother's Day. No one would ever apply for this job. But that's the big secret. If it IS your job, you'd never trade it. Not for five seconds. Not in a million years.
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