so i'm sitting here listening to lionel and ralph argue as to whether or not it's okay that ralph likes the smooth criminal (ralph: geez, lionel! i'm just sayin' i like the smooth criminal, alright? lionel: fine! whatever!) and cecelia humming the tune of 'wiggle it.' (i stomp my feet. i boogey to the beat. i turn around. i touch the ground. i wig-gle it... just a little bit!) thanking my lucky stars that my kids are cute, funny, interesting human beans. ralph is trying desperately to keep lionel awake. lionel is trying desperately to ignore ralph so he can go to sleep. this is the time of night i really love, hearing their little selves settling, their little voices winding down, their little body movements slowing to an eventual stop. then ralph's feet hit the floor and he RUNS to tell us something very important/about his growing pains/his headache/his stomach/his plans for tomorrow/about broken promises to lay with him (that were never made, by the way.) i came home from my run to three little angels in our bed, cecelia holding court reading to them about dodger and oliver. they are really good to each other. i love that. i love to think about them being close as they get older, being close and continuing to be good to each other as adults. how blessed we are!
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