Sands of Time

The boys are doing well lately. Mack is crawling around with this big dopey grin and a pool of drool and snot around his nose and mouth. But his positive energy is amazing.

Nate -- not without his meltdowns from time to time when he's tired -- has been funny and chatty ("You play me Mommy? You play me?? Five minutes? You play me?"), his language hilarious and relentless.  This morning, as we were leaving for school, we were in the hallway, Nate in his orange stroller and Shana and I rushing around in order to get him out of the door. 

"You got you keys?" Nate said.  Shana and I laughed.  

"Yes, Nate." I answered.  

"You got you phone?" asked Nate sweetly, not trying to be funny. 

We laughed again. "Yes. OK, Nate, let's roll..."  

I closed the door and said goodbye to Shana and Mack.  We strolled halfway down the hall.  

"You got you book?"  I stopped.  "Wow. No Nate, I.. uh... forgot my book.  I'll be right back."  

Hilarious.

I took this picture at school, Nate looking at the blue sands of time. They don't stop falling, do they? I want to stop them sometimes, or slow them down, or at least appreciate them. These days -- the ages of the boys, the youngness and sweetness -- feel precious and lovely to me. Once in a while, it's good to pay attention to the time going by.