Ah, the school year is coming to an end. My kids are looking forward to it, but they also wish it weren’t ending. It is obvious that they will miss their school friends. I think I will miss something too—maybe drop-off or pick-up time? Hmm, I wonder. So as I stood by the stove, cooking breakfast as usual, getting ready for school, I paused for a quick second to take a quick glance at my very lovely growing children who sat right across from where I stood. Listening to them talk, I recognized that this has been the rhythm of our home.
I said to myself, “ This is one of the many memories I never want to lose.”
Most of our mornings start right here. My two sleepy children sit at the counter table with tea cups nearby and breakfast between them. The day just beginning. Before morning prayers, before shoes, before school, before everything there is this moment.
It always begins almost the same way.
“Do you want to hear my dream from last night?”
And then the other leans in, ready to listen.
What starts as a small dream quickly becomes something much bigger. A giant alligator appears. Someone suddenly flies. A huge house rises in the clouds. A talking dog runs beside them. With every sentence, the story grows and stretches. It is exaggerated, funny, impossible, and completely serious to them.
They correct each other, add details, laugh, interrupt, defend their version, and continue building the tale together as if they are two little writers gathered around a breakfast table.
And I am always nearby, quietly listening, smiling, loving this part of motherhood no one warns me will be so precious.
I love these moments—not just the grand milestones or big celebrations but these ordinary mornings after the sun is fully up and the dinner hours when my two little children, without realizing it, are forming a sibling bond.
Glory be to God
