Apparently, Younger walked into his grandparents’ house the other day, discovered several plastic red cups on the table, and asked his grandfather, “Has Grandma been playing beer pong?”

He supposedly continues to be concerned that no one actually answered him.

His grandparents supposedly continue to be concerned that he knows of the existence of beer pong.

Usually, concerned people spend less time laughing.



One Moment

Younger is finished with the first half of his senior year, and Elder is through the first half of his junior year. And I have both of my boys home with me.

And I am heartbreakingly aware that these moments are becoming more and more limited.

I have been told and have told others to enjoy the moment, to not blink. We have all heard the warnings about time passing by us at a speed we cannot slow.

And I miss my little boys. I miss the little arms tight around my neck, all the weight of a sleeping boy pressed against my chest. I miss faces that lit up when Mom returned after a couple of hours of absence. I miss being “Mommy.”

I miss the orneriness.  The imagination. The fights for independence. The quiet moments of dependence.

But I also love who they are now. Younger teasing me over some admitted silliness. Elder accepting me asking him to let me know he made it somewhere alive rather than being offended that I don’t trust him to make it somewhere alive.

Younger trying to talk me into thinking it is my idea to take him to Panera.

Elder ending a telephone call with “I love you so much, Mom.”

So, yes, enjoy the moment.

Every moment.

Because you won’t have another moment just like this one. Or the next one. Or the thousandth one.

So, Merry Christmas to all of you.

And enjoy every precious moment.

Listen and Learn

Today, I am in the midst of grading final essays, which does not always positively impact my humor. So, I thought I would share an old story from 2000, when even at four years old, Elder knew one of life’s simple truths . . .

Last Wednesday, Dad dropped Mom off at the office, so she was with me when I picked the boys up from the babysitter.  On the short drive home, Elder was explaining something to his Mama — I didn’t even know what it was at the time.  But whatever it was, he apparently didn’t believe he was receiving the attention the matter warranted because he told her, very firmly, “Listen, Mama.  If you don’t listen, then you’ll never learn.”

. . . And of course, Elder has always believed we should be listening to him to do our learning.

What is painful is when he is right.

A Fine Example

The other day, Younger was explaining why he chose to spend the day with his grandparents rather than with video games.

“I won’t remember playing the video game in even a few weeks,” he told me. “But I will remember the day with Grandma and Grandpa.”

My heart expanding with motherly pride, I smiled softly at him. “That is a very mature decision-making process.”

“It’s how I look at doughnuts, too,” he continued. “If I don’t think I will remember eating the doughnut in a week, I don’t eat it.”

“Well,” I replied, “that’s why I eat six doughnuts if I eat one. I won’t likely forget that.”

Apparently, his maturity wasn’t learned through example.