Slipping Away
As I setup our Easter table on the night before Easter Sunday, I actually cried. I hung decorations above our dining table and I laid out eggs and filled the kids baskets with cosy winter PJ's and an Easter bunny each. It occurred to me that I would normally now create powder feet markings to indicate the bunny had hopped through the house leaving a magical dusting of evidence behind. And that's when it hit me. That time had slipped away. That sweet spot of innocence and childhood wonder had left and I didn't even see it go. Of course I can do these things anyway. Of course the real magic of Easter and Christmas isn't about whether my children actually believe in magic or not - I understand that we can make these events whatever we want them to be and they can still be wonderful. But I just feel a bitter-sweet moment there and then that there was a shift in our house.
Last weekend the youngest two asked if they could setup a giant cubby downstairs and sleep in it. Of course I said YES! They planned and built and executed an awesome extravaganza together and bunked, huddled under a castle of blankets and sheets for the night. It filled my heart with so much joy. Yet once again I felt a pang of bittersweet sadness that moments like this are rare and will likely only become rarer.
There is something about your children getting along. I don't just mean being considerate of one another, that is amazing in itself, but I am talking about the times when they actually seem to be enjoying one another's company. When they pull out a card game and play it together, or those sweet, sweet times when I'm cleaning up the kitchen after dinner and I can hear them all in someone's room talking together, even laughing together. Those are the absolute best of times.
Those are the moments I need to remind myself - that even if the games and sleepovers and innocent wonder of bunny feet fade - age doesn't have to stop the spending of time together, the talking and the laughing. Those things don't have to slip away.
