The rest of the house is still asleep when eight-year-old Thing2 emerges from his bunk bed fort. He skates into the kitchen with a soft groan, “Mo-o-o-m.”
Then he notices the tea next to my computer where normally a diet soda would be.
“Whoa, that’s the first time I’ve seen you drink tea instead of diet soda,” he says wrapping his arms around my neck and squeezing. “I’m so proud of you,” he says sounding like a parent.
I move my larynx a little to avoid having it crushed and let him melt around me for an extended hug. He suddenly starts to jitterbug and says, “I have to go pee.”
And I’m left wondering what the next Monday minute will bring.