Why do they play under the stairs? Why is this fun for them? This morning, while I pulled the covers over my head, I heard them going into that little useless closet under the stairs -- closing the doors. Giggles ensued. While I strictly open the doors saying "do NOT close the doors" -- their headlamps blaring into my need-more-sleep-eyes—Huge smiles on their faces. I snuggled back into bed only to be visited by that scene from The Six Sense where Toni Collette pulls the almost lifeless body of her freakish, "I see dead people" son out of a antique looking dumbwaiter.... bullied into the hole in the wall by classmates at a birthday party. Later, while having taken her son to the hospital, M. Night Shyamalan, acting as a medical professional, suggests that the bruises found on her son's body were due-in-part to child abuse... When they were actually inflicted by mean ghosts that haunted him incessantly.
I immediately got up to make breakfast, because there is NO WAY that anything that might be lurking under the stairs is going to hurt my kids, right? Talk about reasons to get out of bed in the morning. I also failed to put anything on my feet, which have been covered up for months. They felt free and new. Gorgeous too due to a recent pedi.
It was then that I decided that I can't or shouldn't stop blogging. Because what am I going to do if I can't share these magical moments with you.
Now I know things here are a little broken, and it may take some time to fix them, but according to my toes, all we have is time. I'm now off to register for the ALT Summit, because DAMMIT, and his little man too.
To be continued....
