The past few days Micah and I got to bed late, as usual. But instead of being woken up by the chatting and arguing and playing and crying of our little boys, we were awakened by the profound silence of our apartment. (Well, sort of. Micah woke up to calm Oliver when he became distraught about having the wrong color of sheet on his bed at about 6:00 this morning.)
It was lovely. And also lovely, when we finally woke up, to see the boys in their room playing with the two little boys that belonged to our weekend house guests. “Playing with” in the sense that they were sharing and taking turns and watching each other play games on various devices. The boys had a great time together. And we had a great time with their parents, as we always do when we get together.
I have high hopes that we’ll stay in touch with this family and be able to visit each other frequently. And I am grateful that when we do, the boys will have friends to play with. I’m grateful that those friends match up in age and interests with my boys and that they get along well. I like the idea of the kids having friends that they may not get to see frequently, but that can still be constants throughout their lives, and that they can build memories and relationships with throughout their childhoods.
(I realize you can hardly see anyone in this picture, but we’re there and we’re eating tasty pizza and we’re having a good time.)