This past Saturday, the boys slept over at their friend Oscar's. (Thank you, Ben and Katie!) I couldn't believe what a relief it was to have them out of the house, and what a joy it was to spend an evening with my little girl. We played with her dolls, we sang, we rocked out (she really likes to wiggle it, just a little bit), we read books. I nibbled on various body parts and blew raspberries here and there. Lilah tried on every available shoe. In between these activities, she kept me company while I cleaned the kitchen and straightened up the entire downstairs.
Notably and blessedly absent that evening was any mention of--let alone screaming about--the following: bodily excretions, ways to kill the enemy, superpowers, Spiderman, rockets blasting off into outer space, sibling's stupidity, injuries sustained in the heat of the resulting combat, and mother's unreasonableness vis-a-vis food offerings and bedtime.
What were we thinking, having those two boys first?
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