Simon flings his ankles to his ears sucking the pacifier furiously as the blanket is draped over him. Flinging himself to his side reveals his back and causes the blanket to cover most of his face. His eyes roll back in his head as his eyelids droop till heavy he heaves a sigh and resigns himself to sleep. He doesn't fight it. He gets tired and wants to go to sleep. He has developed a routine. He goes with it.
Abigail loads her arms with whatever she might need to stay entertained. She asks for songs and tucking and more water. She visits the living room till she knows another staying-awake trot will land her in serious trouble. She pulls books from the bookshelf covering her bed, surrounding herself with stuff. It is a war, an all-out fight. Inevitably she loses, collapsing blankets draped willy-nilly, legs or head precariously near the edge, heavy, deep breaths. She has developed a routine. Sleep pursues; she flees till sleep overtakes.
How I love them in the very differences that make them who they each are. What a privilege to mother them, to know these two who God has poured His creative energy in that I may be blessed to share their lives.
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