Not that he’s ever in bed very early. 10pm is probably the norm. But tonight, we are watching the Olympics. Surprisingly, he enjoys the ice dancing. It’s not quite the same as the snowboarders or ski-jumpers for him, but he’s getting into it. He makes little comments about the performances, and even stronger comments about the attire–“Mom, she’s practically nekked!” I’ve had to point at the “flesh-tone” of some of the costumes more than once, to alleviate his fears of what might get exposed. He’s funny.
Now I’ll be honest and say that most nights I am more than ready for my little bundle of energy and words to head to bed. But tonight, as we cuddle on the sofa and enjoy the graceful movements on ice, I’m just thankful he’s here. I’m mostly thankful that I will not be fighting with an overly tired 9 yr-old at 6am. He can sleep in if he needs to–he won’t. He can rest in the afternoon if he wants to–he won’t. Just one more benefit of homeschooling, I guess. But more than anything, I’m thankful for this little memory we’re making, just watching ice dancing, talking, snuggling. He’s growing up so quickly. For the next Winter Olympics, he’ll be 13 and likely won’t mind the skimpiness of the costumes so much, if he even watches. And I’m not sure he’ll want to cuddle with me on the couch so much.
Some days I feel like these moments are slipping away from me. I’m so not ready. I hope he’s not ready either.
