You know what I would not trade for the world?
Table time with my children
Sitting down to a bowl of hot oatmeal
Staring into their puffy (often crusty) morning eyes
Reading with them
Forecasting our today
The seemingly endless potential for tangents and rabbit trails in our conversation
Feeling like the press secretary for life
The littliest inquirer asks,
"Mommy, does God have a body?"
"Mommy, why did your daddy die?"
The oldest blushes and whispers her questions
"When I get older, can we still cuddle?"
I wonder at their wonder and grow younger.
Sometimes, I miss it.
I try to be "productive" by letting them sit alone while I get ahead with my day
But when I fight for a spot at the table of new eyes
When I step up to the podium to give stumbling half-answers,
I find it is always worth my time.
So I wouldn't trade it.
Neither for fortune, nor fame
I have figured out the code to the game.
At the table
With my babies