Our lazy weekend turned into a sick weekend for poor Owen. He had a sore throat and a fever. Sick for Owen is usually just really sleepy – which is what it was this weekend. So we added a few more movies and reading on the couch. Still a pretty good lazy weekend.
My mom (Mamau) came over for a little visit today, and while she was here, she got in on the reading too. We were in the middle of the Beverly Cleary book, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, so she continued with it. As Mamau was reading with the monkeys cuddled around her on the couch, I listened from the other couch.
I watched my little guys’ faces as the excitement of the chapter came to a peak. Owen gets jittery, and Jack gets motionless. When I read to them, I don’t get to watch their reactions. That was fun.
As my mom continued to read, I closed my eyes. I was suddenly and strangely transported to a time from my early childhood – when it was me being read to by my mom. I WAS five year old, and I felt all of the comfort and innocence of myself at five. It sounds so silly as write it now, but the experience was so real and pure, and very very strange. While I have heard my mom’s voice very often, the cadence of her reading a children’s story was different. That sound brought me right back to a time that I cherish. A time of simplicity and happiness and contentment.
I love to think that I am also making those memories with my boys. And I hope that they can hold on to them as they grow up, and life becomes much more complicated. And even though the boys may not remember each specific book we read, or game we play, or chat we have, I hope there remains the essence of simplicity and happiness and contentment.
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