I really need to get on here more often, as I've missed the window for a few posts, least of which being my yearly rant about "Take Your Child Out Of School Day". I won't re-hash. Just look up last year's rant.
Tonight I'm babysitting the girls. I should come up with another nickname, as "the boys", "the girls", and "the kids" doesn't work any more ("the boys" are outside my circle of folks I see regularly). Ah, it's good to be reminded that you're on the outs with someone.
Anyway, I'm babysitting the girls tonight, because Ben & Tricia are at some get-gussied-up function of some sort. I was sitting on Livy's bed watching the two of them brush their teeth and generally prepare for bed when my over-active imagination imagined them about twelve years from now, standing side by side in front of those dual sinks putting on their make-up for the prom.
Then I imagined that I was talking with them then, as I was as this imagination-fest was going on, and in the imagination-fest I was telling them that I was remembering this random night, so many years ago, when they were both so small and precocious, where they were happily brushing their teeth and telling me all sorts of wild tales about how sometimes they're allowed to do the teeth-brushing routine in reverse order, and so on... and as I re-read this run-on sentence, I realize you might need a road map. Take a moment. Draw one if you need one.
Then the Hallmark moment was over, and I remembered that Jordan is only 12, and I know I've forgotten moments where I sat watching her when she was this age or younger, thinking, "I'll remember this when she's older, and blah blah blah." By the time Jordan is 17 or 18, I'm bound to remember even less.
And then, of course, as is my way these past few years, the newer part of me steps in to clear his throat and say, "As if you're going to live to see their Junior/Senior Prom Night, dufus."
Well, he has a point. I'm not the healthiest man alive. Not even on the top gazillion list, methinks.
(And I get that charlie-horse feeling in my leg as I type this, as if to back it up the sentiment--no worries, folks who know the significance of that... I've had this feeling often, and I'm fairly sure it's just a small charlie horse.)
So, shaken from my moment, but still conversing with the girls as if this whole other world didn't exist in my brain for however-many seconds, I realize that if I'm here, maybe I'll remember this night if there's a blog entry about it.
And here it is.