I stood at the top of the stairs listening as Roscoe came in the door from school this afternoon. The door slammed opened and I listened to an amazing array of thumps and crashes before he came into view. How is it even possible to make that much noise walking through a doorway? Part of me expected to see him carrying some kind of metal scaffolding.
Sometimes it feels like my kids' exuberance is the bane of my existence. They grab a gallon of milk with a gusto that sends milk sloshing. They send papers skittering to the floor as they speed past my desk. Many times I wish they could just walk through a room without stomping and spilling and crashing.
But then, on a day like today, I repent of all that. Jess woke up with a fever and all day our little superhero has been quiet and subdued. He has walked softly, moved slowly, spoken quietly. He hasn't made any meses at all.
It's been a peaceful day, but no, it's not what I want.