I just tucked kid number 2 in bed for the night–well, not so much tucked as nodded in his general direction and murmured, "Dood. So. G'night, yeah?" which is teenage for "I love you so much and I can't believe how you've grown into a man in just a few short years and I might cry if I come in there and kiss you on the cheek, but you'd probably roll your eyes and wipe it off because the mere fact that I breathe is sort of embarrassing to you right now, so I won't. But I really want to because I'm totally feeling all 'Sunrise, Sunset' from Fiddler on the Roof these days, and my dear young man, you make me proud."
–and kid number 1 poked her head into the room and said:
"Hey, do you remember when we were little and you used to mummify us in our blankets when you tucked us in at night?"
And then kid 2 piped up: "Oh yeah! I remember that! I used to love that! It was so comfortable!"
(Oh wait . . . )
"Yeah! But then if you had to get a drink of water or go to the bathroom you didn't want to because . . . "
"You didn't want to mess it up."
"But you'd get up anyway . . . "
"And then you'd be like, 'Mom! Can you come tuck me in again?'"
"And she would. I totally forgot about that."
Well. I totally forgot about that too. And now I remember. They were so cute and little and I wanted them to feel all safe and warm and cozy as they slept. Sweet dream promotion, you know. So they'd hunker down in their beds and I'd do a two-handed tuck, smooshing their blankets in all nice and tight right around the edges of their whole person so I could see the outline of them on the bed. And they'd stay all tight and secure like that until I found them sprawled half onto the floor in the morning.
I two-handed tucked both of them in tonight. Took like 20 minutes because they're so much longer now. But it's sweet-dream-city. I can see it on their faces.
Okay. Maybe I've been a not too bad mom. I can live with that.