I love coming home.
Everything is fresh, and fun again, and the children are eager to have mom do all the bedtime routines. Sometimes I am a bit clumsy, like when Daphne insists on being wrapped in a (white! Not the green!) towel after her bath and carried stork-like in a sling down the hall and into her room, to be deposited on the bed like Mrs. Jumbo’s bundle of joy. That one was invented with Daddy, so I didn’t quite have it down and had to do it over a couple of times.
Later, while all four of us were all tucked up in Dylan’s twin bed and reading The Cat in the Hat, we curled into one another, and Dylan and Daphne patted and stroked my arms, face, hair. Go out and get yourself a kid now, my friend. You’ll never know love in all its forms until you do.
At the end of the story, when the children and the fish were frantically trying to decide how to answer their mother when she asked when they did while she was out, I asked mine what they would say to me if I had asked. Logan, as usual, had an immediate answer.
“Tell. I’d tell you because it’s all picked up. It’s not a problem.”
“OK, right, good answer. It’d be easier to hear all of that if the house were clean. How about you, Dylan? What would you do if your mother asked you?”
“I’d snuggle with you.”
“Uh huh. And what else?”
“I’d kiss you.”
“And you know what else I’d do that was good?”
“I’d buy trains.”
Logan sighed. “Dylan, you don’t have a brain in your head, you have a train in your head!”
“I like trains.”