Simon says really good prayers most of the time. He is thoughtful and thorough, even if he does bless “a good afternoon” two or three times in one sitting. I’m still not sure how much he understands about who he is talking to or about faith or any of that. But I do know that he is not afraid to say things like, “and bless that we will go to the Children’s Museum of Manhattan tomorrow.” When I heard that the other night, I took a breath and said to myself, “It is usually through someone else that Heavenly Father answers our prayers. I guess I am that ‘someone else.'”
And so we went to the children’s museum in Manhattan yesterday after school. We had a great time. Oliver went down the little slide about 20 times, each time was funnier than the last because each time he knew he needed to be sitting, and yet he still attempted to stand up anyway. If he wasn’t so cute when he knows he’s being a punk, he would have driven me crazy. He only almost fell on his head three times. I’m not even kidding.
Both boys fell asleep on the train ride home. I felt like such a good mom. Especially the part when I shoved a couple of people out of the way as I dragged my semi-conscious 3-year-old off the train and up the stairs.
I love New York City. I really do.