I waited all day to watch the next episode of The Voice. I love the blind auditions. I love to watch the moment when Adam Levine chooses and artist and turns around; he is so genuinely into the moment.
I came to our bedroom to sit in my favorite big red chair, lesson plans done for the week, nothing to do but relax and ignore my big pile of laundry to fold. I like to sit back here at night, closer to Adam, always worried about possible problems. And apparently, I like to ignore clean laundry as well.
The only problem tonight is that after a little President’s Day sleep in and a nap at preschool, there’s a different voice in this house tonight.
I hear little bits of the stories my three year old is telling his Little Bear from his bed in the next room:
This is the old wall. Then the cranes came….
Mommy took my rail down last night. She’s going to have to come put it back tonight.
Two catepillars are funny.
I pause my long awaited show and catch other little pieces about trucks, and more cranes, and police officers, and Thomas the train before the voice fades off, silent, but not sleeping. Not yet.
I wonder when we lose the ability to entertain ourselves? The ability to make something out of nothing? The ability to weave stories about the every day to our interested audiences with nothing more interesting that we know of every day life?
What a sweet little reminder about how very quickly these little beings grow up.
Oh- and I think we loose the ability to entertain ourselves when life takes over and complete exhaustion step in. And the laundry of course. No need for self entertainment when there is a home to prepare : )