The bathroom had a warmness to it as I stood folding laundry, listening to my son play in the bubble filled water. He was basking in the glory of playing with his sister's toys without her knowledge. His little hands were moving the ponies through the bubbles, under the water, and eventually soaring through the air and bouncing off the bathroom floor.
Fold, fold, fold. My tasks continued.
From the front room I heard my daughter belting out a made up song to the sounds of her father's guitar strumming. I take a step backward so that I can pier out of the bathroom towards the sounds of preschool songs. I see her. She has her shirt on, pink smiley faced panties (which she loves), her frilly white socks and her red sparkle shoes. She put on her fancy socks and sparkle shoes just special for the occasion of daddy's guitar strums. She stood proudly and boldly on the fireplace ledge, singing a song at the top of her small voice. Her songs are usually about ponies, rainbows, celebrations, and friendship. This one was no different.
My husband sat on the chair, fingers created various chords on the strings of his guitar. Listening to his little girl. He looked tired. I know he had a hard day and it is all resting right on his shoulders.
I am quietly happy that he picked up his guitar. This man I married is full of talents, yet most have laid dormant over the last three years as his work load and school load have placed heavy burdens on his time.
I finish my folding. I pull my son into a soft towel. He lays his head on my chest. I walk out to the front room, hoping to have a moment to snuggle my boy. My snuggling plans are pushed aside as he frees himself from the towel, picks up a tambourine and joins in the music.
at 7:53 PM