We marched, we raced, we trundled and at some points I carried my not so little, little one across the large field toward the park.
It was dusk and the sky had turned a steel blue-grey with wisps of pale yellow from the sun that was quickly moving toward the horizon.
I was feeling content. Lucky. So lucky. It was one of those days that everything was just....good. More than good.
The January air was mild though my boys were bundled in their winter coats and hats, fingers mitten clad, cheeks rosy. Healthy.
We arrived at the park and we climbed, we hung from the monkey bars, we slid down the slides.
Finley marched on over to the swings and Adrian and I followed. I settled them in the swings side by side so that I could simultaneously push them. (when does a child learn how to 'pump' the swing on their own - I so look forward to that day).
I pushed them higher and higher upon request.
They laughed from right down deep in their bellies.
They were flying high. Maybe a little too high.
I stopped pushing for a couple of back and forths - just let the air take them.
"Mummyyy! Push!" says Finley
"Yeah, Mumma. Higher!" says Adrian
My little daredevils. Worrisome, yet admirable.
"Don't you have butterflies in your stomach?" I asked. Because just looking at them soaring so high, I did.
Adrian yells out, "No! I have bees! In my mouth!"
"Bees in your mouth huh? How does that taste?"
"Like delicous honey!"
Finley randomly calls out, "'Pider!" I'm now gently pushing them in their swings.
I ask him, amused (2 is such an amusing age.), "You have spiders in your mouth?"
He yells, "NO!"
I ask, "You have spiders in your belly?"
"How's that feel?"
And I laughed. A genuine from the belly laugh.
These days? These days that turn out spectacular in their unspectacular-ness.....
These are the days that I live for.