Tuesday, January 5

Nine {Blackberry Pavlova with Blackberry-Honey Syrup}

 "Little boys should never be sent to bed.  They always wake up a day older." -Peter Pan

Last night I had a thought.  One of those startling thoughts that begins innocently enough, like the faint vibrations before an earthquake that rattles you to the core.  A reality check, you could say, in the truest sense of the term, though this phrase doesn't carry the weight that I felt last night.  Perhaps an epiphany is a better way to describe it.

I was tucking Connor into bed, and though he's 9 he still likes me to lay down next to him while he's falling asleep.  We talk and talk, and if you know Connor, you know what a chatterbox he can be.  We discuss all matters of importance - from what's going on in his Minecraft world, to the bug he found & caught crawling up a tree at school (catch and release), to the science test tomorrow for which he forgot to study (but he's sure he'll do fine).   He babbles on and on, while I listen, until he finally drifts off to sleep, sometimes mid-sentence.  I treasure this time, it's part of our routine.  But don't get me wrong - there are days when I'm behind on work or have a sink-full of dishes in the kitchen and laundry to fold on the couch,  and all I can see is the minute hand ticking the time away.  Last night was one such night.  Dinner ran late, dessert even later, pushing bedtime closer and closer to midnight.  I had a 6 a.m. video conference scheduled for this morning, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with a cup of tea and a book.

Still, the question came, soft as the blankets I tucked in around him, "Mom, can you rest with me...?"

Immediately my to-do list scrolled before me like the never-ending credits of a too long movie.  There were hundreds of reasons I could have said, "Not tonight."  But something stopped me.  Instead I said,  "For just a minute."