On Wednesday, I had one of those days. One of those covetted, pleasantly surprising, everything-just-goes-right, the universe-loves-you, kinda days.
While Girlio woke far too early, she didn't wake at all through the previous night (say whhhatttt?!). Our morning routine was quick and painless - even with the extra kiddo, we left on time, we got to school on time, and we grooved to bad radio music in the car all the way. Boy-o had very little telltale signs of separation anxiety (our newest parenting adventure, likely to be blogged about at another time) at school and then, later on, chattered away animateedly about his school adventures the whole ride home. I had a great coffee with a friend and felt light and rejuvinated.
And I spent the afternoon just marvelling at these wonders who are my children, who are these passionate, devil-may-care, bright, creative souls - and amazed that despite (and maybe just a teensy bit because) of their parentage, they are, like, the coolest kids ever. Boy-o spent hours making up games about space travel and fire fighting (and space-travelling-fire-fighters) and then deciding that he will be an astronomer (who fights fires, natch). Girlio ran around naming everything she saw (where did she get all these words?!), laughing, getting into trouble (as per usual) and trailing her brother with a look of what can only be described as complete and total adoration. (Which Boy-o tolerated reasonably well).
I love these days. I live for these days. These days remind you that you're better at life than you think you are. They remind you that the slogging-it-out, dealing-with-self-doubt-around-every-corner, kids-throwing-you-a-new-curveball-everytime-you-figure-the-old-one-out days seem so so worth it.
(And of course they are. It's just nice to have that little dose of perspective every now and again).