Tonight Brittani approached me as I was transferrings some old posts to this blog — see, I can no longer be a part of my old blog, there was just too much there that I would rather forget – but the things I want to remember moved along with me to our new home here.
I guess I was caught in the moment that this teenager was taking an interest in something I was doing and soon following, the preteen joined in. One thing led to another and before I knew it I was reading words out loud to them from my old posts in 06 and 07 about how much I loved them or funny things they did…and before I knew it I was reading a post to them that I wrote for my daddy around Father’s Day of 07. The post where I spill my guts to him about everything I’d ever done wrong. So tonight my children realized that I am not perfect, never was.
We giggled about the things they did that were mischevious – their whispering to each other after bedtime, how they swept their papers under the run in their room and their polly pockets under the bed when I asked them to tidy up (and how I never knew…yeah right) — we were all giggling and laughing and pointing and enjoying a moment that will likely never circle around again.
And I’m lingering a little on that moment of happiness and the 45 minutes that my kids and I were all in the same room focusing on each other and praying that they don’t get any ideas from the post I read them about the cigarettes, teen pregnancy, or any other of the million things I wish they never knew.