How often do we experience truly lovely evenings? Nothing spectacular or garish. Nothing outwardly notable. Certainly nothing I would bring up in conversation except within this forum, where I am my primary audience. But tonight was just such a revelation.
The girls awoke from their naps as Keven came home from class. Shortly thereafter, dressed in his suit, he had to return to campus to hear a speaker. While he was away, I bathed the girls, finished my chores, and ordered pizza. We have gone without a junk food dinner since I started my diet over a month ago, and tonight - for some reason - all of our defenses were lowered. We felt like a treat.
Pizza arrived minutes after Keven. The girls were clean and in gently amiable spirits as they watched Bambi. They weren't over-the-top and loud, but sweet and generous. Without cause or prompting, Ilsa said she loved Juliette and gave her a spontaneous hug. Juliette climbed on my lap and kissed me, asking me if I liked her. Love was in the air! When the pizza guy arrived, they nearly burst from their skins and made a run for the table. Over mouthfuls of the good stuff, Ilsa kept grinning about "fam-a-lee din-naar!"
Following waaaay too much pizza, I settled in for two glasses of wine and the last 100 pages of a book I was reading. Keven found a spot on the couch with his laptop and a World War II game he got for Christmas. The girls alternated between playing with their boat (the sled) and doing cute things (playing puzzles, singing songs, and drawing pictures that are becoming more anatomically correct every day). They managed only one minor outburst of tempers at each other in nearly 90 minutes - great news! - which was settled in amazingly short order (and I didn't even need to leave the futon).
After pajamas and clean-up, a cookie bar and milk, brushing teeth and using the bathroom, the girls headed to bed without protest or incident. Ilsa giggled about how good cake is (referring to the cookie bar), and Juliette laughed about how silly the word "u-l-i-e-t-t-e" sounds (she spelled her name without the "J"). And then they were simply... done. I finished my book at 9:15, set it aside, and mentioned to Keven that the girls were miraculously quiet. He didn't reply because, with his fingers still on the mouse and the computer still on his lap, Keven was asleep, too. I moved Juliette out of our room and into their shared bed, ushered Keven off the couch and into the rare comfort of an early bedtime, and returned here, to my computer, to marvel at what a gentle and lovely few hours this has been.
The girls awoke from their naps as Keven came home from class. Shortly thereafter, dressed in his suit, he had to return to campus to hear a speaker. While he was away, I bathed the girls, finished my chores, and ordered pizza. We have gone without a junk food dinner since I started my diet over a month ago, and tonight - for some reason - all of our defenses were lowered. We felt like a treat.
Pizza arrived minutes after Keven. The girls were clean and in gently amiable spirits as they watched Bambi. They weren't over-the-top and loud, but sweet and generous. Without cause or prompting, Ilsa said she loved Juliette and gave her a spontaneous hug. Juliette climbed on my lap and kissed me, asking me if I liked her. Love was in the air! When the pizza guy arrived, they nearly burst from their skins and made a run for the table. Over mouthfuls of the good stuff, Ilsa kept grinning about "fam-a-lee din-naar!"
Following waaaay too much pizza, I settled in for two glasses of wine and the last 100 pages of a book I was reading. Keven found a spot on the couch with his laptop and a World War II game he got for Christmas. The girls alternated between playing with their boat (the sled) and doing cute things (playing puzzles, singing songs, and drawing pictures that are becoming more anatomically correct every day). They managed only one minor outburst of tempers at each other in nearly 90 minutes - great news! - which was settled in amazingly short order (and I didn't even need to leave the futon).
After pajamas and clean-up, a cookie bar and milk, brushing teeth and using the bathroom, the girls headed to bed without protest or incident. Ilsa giggled about how good cake is (referring to the cookie bar), and Juliette laughed about how silly the word "u-l-i-e-t-t-e" sounds (she spelled her name without the "J"). And then they were simply... done. I finished my book at 9:15, set it aside, and mentioned to Keven that the girls were miraculously quiet. He didn't reply because, with his fingers still on the mouse and the computer still on his lap, Keven was asleep, too. I moved Juliette out of our room and into their shared bed, ushered Keven off the couch and into the rare comfort of an early bedtime, and returned here, to my computer, to marvel at what a gentle and lovely few hours this has been.
1 comments:
Sounds like perfection.
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