The best nights don’t mean the house is clean.
Or that we had the best dinner.
Or all the laundry is done, the bills are paid, or even that we’re all completely healthy.
The best nights are nights like tonight, when the boys are running around pretending to be Iron Man and “Bad guy!” as Bear is so excitedly shouting. When they’re playing together – nicely – and enjoying it.
Bear is shouting Mickey happily. Butter is claiming to be Iron Man and they’ve both said Pop is the Hulk.
My boys are rolling around on the floor, having fun.
And I have the worst headache I’ve had in weeks. It’s still the best night.