Children

And then the smaller one goes to sleep.

Later you open the bedroom door, fascinated by how interminably cute they look as long as they’re comatose.  You breathe in the smell of them and wonder for the umpteenth time how they grew this big that quickly? 

Today felt so, sooo long, but the weeks have flashed past.  Again.

Will you remember the details, the magic?  Their favourite toys, their latest party-tricks, the way they laugh, the eyes they make for only you, the grin that's quintessential to who they are?

You’re in the thick of it.  Running on empty, needing to do the laundry, fixing the broken toy, finding the batteries with your right arm and a snack with your left, negotiating Peace Treaty #902 between the youngest and the oldest, producing something everyone is actually going to eat for dinner, while also tidying up the sopping wet bathroom for the hundred-billionth time and wondering why this is the moment your partner wants to know what your-cousin-fifteen-times-removed-is-called-again.

One small moment after the other.

Side-by-side with your most-annoying-but-still-favourite people.

Questioning if these really are The Best Years?

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