Sometimes it's better to forget...

So I just got back from the perfect vacation.  (Keep in mind, I'm an introvert.  This isn't going to be as exciting as you think.)

Where did I go, you ask?  The library. Every day -- except the day I destroyed an entire shed.  (That's a later post -- no worries)   I went to the third floor.  In a corner. With lots of books.  You know what I did?  I studied.  (Frankly, it didn't matter what I did.  It was hauntingly quiet.  AND -- AND ... I had a large frozen cappuccino to myself.)

It was a perfect vacation.  From 11am to 3 pm every day.  The rest of my vacation was spent with the kids, who are not nearly so blissfully quiet, but sooo worth it.... and then I got to go back to work, where this week has been so crazy that when a co-worker left on a stretcher surrounded by EMTs today, it didn't even seem that out of place.

**I'm writing this at 1 am, so this story will be short, but there are more to come.  The anecdotes that happen when you jam six people (most under the age of eight) into a tiny space just have a life of their own, like this vignette below **

It was 7:30pm, and the kids were late for bed.  Now I say this like they EVER go to bed at 7:00 when bedtime is officially charted.  Never happens.  7pm is bedtime in the Court like 55 miles per hour is the speed limit in our great state.  It's not actually expected that you follow the rule;  however, when 7:15 rolls around and we're just starting our story, I pick a nice short one under the auspices that "we're running 15 minutes late!"  No one is fooled. Anyways, we were running '30' minutes late, so Rachel had graciously stepped in to assist the bedtime process.  We were just about to start the nightly praise songs to Jesus when Judah loudly interjected, "Mom!  I need to tell you something before you sing!"

"Ok," Rachel said.  "What is it?"

Long pause.  "I don't remember."  This is standard Judah fare; the thoughts in his own head are so interesting that sometimes they mug each other before they even get down to his tongue.  Onward we proceeded through a rollicking chorus (5 of us singing, Aryel howling like a wolf) when, just before prayer, Judah burst out again, "Mom, I remembered!"

"Honey, what is it?" Rachel said.

"Mom," (here he looked at her pointedly) "Mom, I didn't want you to be here."

That boy knows how to make his mama feel loved!