My Boys Are Home from the Beach

And it is all I can do not to squeeze them until they turn blue.

I missed them. A lot.

I missed them ignoring me because they’re playing with each other. I missed Bear demanding I wipe his hands off after his third Oreo, then eating a fourth one. I missed Butter’s seemingly endless line of questions. I missed, “Guess what, Mommy!” I missed, “What’s that sound?” & “I not know,” & “I makin’ a tunnel, Mommy!” I missed being asked every time I’m working on a knitting project, “What you making?” I missed being asked if Butter got mail every. single. day. I missed excitement over Kindergarten & soccer & my boys being my boys.

I missed them & despite wanting to keep them up for the rest of the night so I can get my snuggles in, I had to put them to bed. I tried to build stuff out of Magformers with them, but they both gave me looks that said, “Are you KIDDING me?” & snatched all of their toys out of my hands. Then they snuggled up to me & let me make myself hoarse reading The Lorax & all is right with the world.

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