I can hear him reading from the other room, and I know he hates it. I know this because I hate it too. haha! I mean, I love reading, I do, but I hate reading children’s books to the kids. HATE it. But we do it, because we are their parents, and they love it, and we like to do things that they love. Even though we HATE it…did I mention that we hate it? ;)
But I love hearing him read to them, because he’s near, and not long ago he wasn’t so near. The details aren’t for sharing, but know that this is a good place that we’re in.
When he’s done reading to them, they tear into the living room like little bats out of heezie, and climb into the box that Selah was stuck in just a couple hours ago and have been told to stay out of. And then she picks up a flashlight and blinds me saying “Mama, I can see your shadow! Can you see MY shadow?” And they jump on the couch even though they KNOW they aren’t supposed to.
I tell her to “get off the couch like that, you know you aren’t supposed to do that” as she walks across the back, and he asks for food for the umpteenth time.
It’s late, passed their bedtime, but there’s no school tomorrow so I don’t care.
What are you all doing this evening?