Anticipate

It used to be the worst part of my day.

The part that myself and his dad dreaded because we had no idea how long it would take, or how much of our precious evening we would loose, and whether we would emerge from his bedroom victorious or not.

Now it’s an anticipated time.

That part of the day where we both lay looking up at the ceiling and sharing about our day.

I ask intentional questions about his day, new experiences and his reactions to them. We talk about the colour of the water in the trough, and whether he owns a t shirt of that colour to wear on Friday. We giggle behind our hands about how he was confused about which toilet was for boys. We share the ways we were kind to our friends, whether I shared with mine, and whether the kids I teach listen to me as he tries to listen to his teacher. He turns my questions back onto me, and it a most adult-like manner asks about the favourite part of my day.

All of this turns to gratitude as he closes his day in prayer; expressing his desires for the next day and asking for help where he feels he needs it.

As we lay in the stillness, interrupted only by the whine of a mosquito, his head resting on my shoulder and our hearts beating as one, I am reminded that this is how we started out. Him and me, he is a part of me and I of him. It doesn’t matter how old he gets, or how big he is, I will hold onto these shared moments and remind myself that nothing ever stays the same. The dreaded moment has, for now, become a coveted one.

I’m sure there will come a time when I am not allowed access as readily to his room, so for now, I will savour these moments.

For now I will enjoy our anticipated time.