A few days ago I was exhausted from a bad night's sleep and decided to take a nap. I was so tired, I didn't even want to go tell my children my plans. Mark was out playing but I texted Braeden and Emma. Emma immediately stopped playing the piano and I knew Braeden would be the gatekeeper and keep everyone away. (Texting is so convenient when you are too lazy to walk downstairs!)
I fell asleep for a lovely little 15 minute nap and felt better. While I was still groggy, I reached for my phone and texted my two: I'm awake now. Thanks. The piano resumed it's song and Braeden saw an opportunity for a captive audience and came into my room. He lay next to me on the bed. He started telling me about all the homework he'd been doing and how accomplished he was. (It had been 15 minutes but it's all relative.) I said, "I need to get up and fold laundry." He was laying on my arm.
He said, "Nah," and stayed right where he was.
I said, "I really do." But I also stayed right where I was. I remembered him as a baby in our teeny sunny apartment in Provo. Sometimes I'd lay by him for his nap, my body curled around his little self. I would think that I needed to get up and do something else but sometimes I'd just stay by him. I told him about that and I said, "But back then, you were about as big as your foot is now."
He smiled and then asked me if I'd beat 2048 yet. I said no and he said, "Good, at least we have each other."
Adam and Emma are annoyingly good at everything and they've both beaten the game.
So I reached for my phone and we played 2048 for a minute. Then I said, "I really need to fold laundry," and he said fine and took his curly head off my arm (which was a little numb by that point).
I should have stayed longer, both when he was a tiny baby I could curl myself around and now. Laundry keeps better than growing boys.