I love my life as a parent.  I love my kids.  I love the thought processes of my children, and I love our everyday life together. Some of the every day things, that really are extraordinary, melt me with joy and pride at these amazing little humans (“I am NOT little! I am a big kid!” my son would say if he could read this).

The living room dance offs.  When I bought an Alexa Dot, is was mostly to use the timer to try to help me stop burning things I cooked in the oven, and extract some fun information from her.  But, her access to music—specifically, Alvin and the Chipmunks songs—has started off a whirlwind of dance parties, the likes of which the world has never seen before.

The sleeping positions no one over ten would ever think of.  Head dangling off a chair cushion, chest stretched out backwards, a leg in each direction, and my son fast asleep.  My daughter has been observed sleeping in a position which indicated she was standing next to the couch, and basically fell over, face forward, sound asleep with her feet still on the floor.

My two year old spends time plotting to get to do her favorite activity: taking a bath.  She will take my hand and try to lead me to the bathroom, saying, “Come, bath.”  And when I am already in the bathroom, she will grab the bottle of bubble bath and wave it enticingly, dancing around because surely, if I just think about it, I will want her to have a bubble bath. 

My five year old explains things to his two-year old sister, so she can understand life concepts such as that we can’t get a new car because ours already has a back seat.  He is working his master plan constantly so we can get a more acceptable house.  Our house is not acceptable, not because he shares a room with his sister but because we do not have a staircase.  Indoor or outdoor, he is not picky, but to really be a home a house needs a staircase. 

My daughter last night mastered the art of making Lego towers, and beamed with pride as she made tower after tower and carried the precariously tall towers wavering around the living room to show off to her visiting Grandmother and myself.

My son has recently graduated to a big boy bike, and hand brakes. The training wheels aren’t quite off yet, but he no longer stops Fred Flintstone style by sticking out his feet.

I love every moment, except how fast it is all going. No cure for that; I just have to enjoy every bit I can get.