Last night I snuggled a 4 year old who wanted snuggles, 2 books reading, and 3 songs before bed. I obliged with the first, but when she went to get the books the 2 year old saw a space on my lap and wriggled over from J to me. He put his hands on either side of my head, looked into my eyes like that lad does to Robin Williams in Hook, and with a very serious expression on his face, gave me a very big kiss. He then sat on one side of my lap, and the 4 year old sat on the other, and we read the books together, and then whilst he got another book the 4 year old and I sang "Ladies Horse goes Nim Nam Nim Nam". She also did the looking into my eyes and kissing me thing, but less intensely. She thrives on cuddles and songs and dance, and play and joy, and the boy just wants his cuddles, and his questions answered, and life to carry on like it is.
The 2 year old was taken up to bed, and then the 6 year old came for his cuddles and story and the 4 year old claimed all of my lap and we read some more and then she went up to bed.
The 6 year old and I looked at his Usbourne puzzle book and then he went up to bed.
My 8 year old was with his father. We were at a friends house.
I have two ways that I can look at this. I can be incredibly, insanely jealous of these adorable children and their wonderful mother and father. I can want and need this kind of thing for myself. I can cry and bemoan my lack of children and the lack of hope in ever having any of my own again.
I can be happy for this mother that she has 3 children who are so good-natured. I can help her out by tidying the front room a little bit. I can count the blessing of my own son, stepson, stepdaughter, and remember their cuddles when the AC and BG were little, and T-Boy's and the AC's cuddles now. I can praise God for the joy of a whole nights sleep. I can thank Him for the loan of children from a friend, and for the way those children love J and I just because we are us.
This morning, I am there with the second one.
Itwillallbefine. And it is.