I was reading to the girls tonight before they went to bed. Piper with her body that seems to get longer every day, and Bridget with her first wiggly tooth that she can’t stop worrying. I had my arms around them, and a book in my lap, and I had one of those moments. The kind of moment in which you’re reminded of all the reasons you love being a mom. Their mom.
Suddenly the day went away with it’s tattling, silly arguments, and prodding to get chores and such done. All of the negatives washed away on the rythmic cadence of a bedtime story.
I received a comment recently to an old blog post that was basically a ranting tirade against homeschoolers. The author questioned the moral character and sanity of any person who would even consider such a course of action. I wondered what he’d think if he could see us there in that moment, little girls heads leaning on my chest as we all cuddled together to read of a little boy who gave a gift to God.
Certainly one doesn’t have to homeschool to obtain the kind of close relationship we’ve worked hard to build with our kids. But for us, homeschooling has made it easier. And I’m so grateful for the time it’s allowed me just to be with them. One day, sooner than I imagine, they will be grown. Even sooner will come the point where they’d rather read their own stories at bedtime than to hear me read. When that happens I will be so grateful for this time we had together doing something as simple as sharing a book.