I can't believe that it's March already. I feel that with her arrival, there are adventures on the horizon. What they are, I can't say yet but magic is brewing. They may not be huge and grand like last months RV trip to Key Largo with friends, but there is great rest in being home.
We are spending March still. With local adventures and friends. Focusing on the little things. The things that seem insignificant to some. Things that we often just glance over, but, when pausing to look and listen to them, we realize that they are truly sacred ::
Like glances from the morning, to some these images may not seem significant but to me, they tell a story about my children. Each one so very different, even in how they wake up in the morning.
The little man often snuggles up close to me and stays quiet. Usually we sit together on the floor. He wants to cuddle. If he wakes before us, since he's usually the first one up, he will wait on the couch until we are up and ready to share a seat together. He, like his mother, wakes up slowly.
My wild child and milk girl, begs for milk in a glass along with her cereal, as soon as she comes to the kitchen. It's all about milk in the morning for her. Somehow she also times it perfectly to be able to chug the last little bit directly from the container. She wakes up talking. Excited. Ready to tell us all what her plans, and ours, are for the day.
Our girlie girl wakes with a book in her hand. Even bringing it to the kitchen table. She pours her orange juice and somehow manages to drink and eat while still mesmerized with the words from the story. She often will move from there to asking for a bath in our claw-foot tub and I know its because she doesn't want to put the book down.
These things. They are sacred. I want to notice them. To remember them. To record them.