You come in at night with your little stuffed frog and stand next to my bed waiting. I wake up almost immediately because I think mothers sense when one of their children is at their bedside. You crawl into our bed and ask me to scratch your back on the skin. I know that when you fall asleep you will kick me and push me and snuggle so close that I won't get much sleep. But I don't care because I know these days are numbered.
You lie there and talk as if it is morning instead of the middle of the night. You ask me how late Lincoln stayed up and what time he finished his homework. You ask me when your next tee-ball game is and if I think it is going to be rained out. You talk about your new scooter and then you drift off to sleep. In the morning you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, smiling and asking for chocolate milk. Your brother comes in and rubs your head and the two of you sit at the table eating breakfast, each flipping through Sports Illustrated. You go and dress yourself in your gym shorts and tee-shirt and go outside to shoot some baskets and ride your scooter. You aren't outside long before you come in looking for something else to do. You color pictures, play with your frog, play "Trouble" with Mary Margaret, and play a computer game.
Later we sit on the couch for our reading lesson and story. We read about Isaiah in our children's story Bible and we learn that his name means "God to the rescue." You wonder what your name means and I tell you it means "God is gracious." We sit on the couch together and I read while you sneak drinks of my coffee. Afterwards you hop down, smiling and happy, off to see what Lincoln is up to.
During our literature lesson later that day, Lincoln, Lillie, Mary Margaret and I sit talking about the theme of a particular story. You sneak up with your rocket ship and shoot Lillie in the back of the head. It is an interruption, but we all laugh and you run off giggling.
And I sit and thank God for my six-year-old ray of sunshine and know that God has indeed been gracious to me.