Today, the toddler peed the bed, second night in a row. 'Today' being sort of wistful speaking, as it was four in the morning, the netherworld of not yesterday but not really fully today. As I am the only moving body in the house, I am out of the pee-soaked bed, and down to make coffee at four in the morning. The family bed that has been instituted since J moved on is full of pleasures and pitfalls, i tell you. I am very happy to be so physically close to my almost eleven-year-old, as I am VERY aware that his time in my bed is limited by his mounting hormonal onslaught. The eight and the three, are menaces to sleep, as their legs and voices move throughout the night. The stories we tell are wonderful, magically charged versions of the fairy tales, full of whatever characters they request that night... and my penchant for setting scenes...
These are good moments and I hold them tight to my heart these days.
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