One day they won’t

My kids are very, very educated in the art of persuasion.  You should see these two sales geniuses at night, at work in their laboratory trying to figure out how to stay up five or ten more minutes.  First, my daughter with “Dad, can you give us our vitamins?”  That’s usually my first trip down the hallway to each of their rooms.  Then my son chimes in.  “Mommy and Daddy!  Hug and a Kiss,”  our cue to lovingly tuck them both into bed.   But it’s not that simple.  They each want us to tuck the other child in first so they can get the last hug and kiss for the night.  And finally, my daughter asks me to lie with her for a little bit.  No sooner had I accepted her invitation than my son screamed from his bedroom, “Daddy, can you lay with me after?”

Ten minutes later, after my daughter had fallen asleep, I dragged myself out of her room and went to do the same with my son.  He was sleep and I was thankful.  Actually thankful.  It had been a long day, part of an already long week after being gone on vacation.  I just wanted to eat some cereal and go to bed.

But then I started thinking.  Keeping with the theme and goal of this blog, I realized I wasn’t in the moment.  More sobering, though, was the realization that I should be thankful for these moments.  I should be glad my daughter still runs up and jumps on me when I get home, even though she’s almost eight and my back feels like I’m 88.  I should relish the fact that they both want to crawl in bed with my wife and me and watch TV.  And that my son still kisses me.  And that my daughter still thinks I’m a Super Hero.

Because one day they won’t.