What makes the seashells so lovely is that they were found mostly by Big Strong Man and myself prior to the birth of our sons. They are sentimental of a different time. A time with more sleep and less sticky floors...and less hugs and more "adulting". -whatever THAT really means, anyway.
Our three sons luuurve the seashells. They think they are sooo pretty and magical.
And they are right.
Once one son rediscovered the seashells -which have always been there but find themselves in-and-out of the McFive-children-entertainment-hour- it takes approximately 3.5 seconds for the other two to want seashells as well. This means a LOT of seashells all over the house. This means arguments of "that's MY seashells" and "he has more seashells than I do". This means seashells in a line on one's bedroom shelve, and hidden from brothers in another one's current "secret-best-hiding-place-in-the-house", i.e. behind a cubbie or under my bed.
Seashells, I hope I have made you understand, are coveted.
Then today.
A friend came over this morning. It is her birthday and the boys and I sang "Happy Birthday" into her scrambled cheesy eggs with two regular and two trick candles.
There were squeals of delight every time the trick candles re-lit themselves- and that was just from me! About the time she began eating her eggs, my Beloved began showering her with "gifts". Another candle- this one "for keeps" and a fun, purple bracelet.
And then it happened.
Demitri, all four years of sass and sweetness, brought her out a seashell and told her it was hers to keep.
My chin about hit the floor.
In full disclosure, I have AMAZING children- and I don't just say that willy-nilly. They are kind, polite, and friendly- most of the time.
And then days like today happen. Days when I remember that, on their own accord, from the very pit of them, they are their own people.
And they are exceptional.
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