Miles climbed into bed and started reciting one of his favorite books - one Tim and Justin sent back when they were born, Ten Wishing Stars.
He wanted to watch a video of that book, so I fired it upon Youtube and Charlie heard it starting. Suddenly I was holding two 12 year old toddlers to watch a story.
I know I look like I'm doing "smell the fart" acting and I don't know why. Maybe my face just always looks like that. But we're cuddled together, just watching this story. We watched it three times, each time with them giggling and cracking up at the silly sheep and their wishes.
I'm not sure if it's the book, or the fact that we watch it in Korean (or some language I'm too ignorant to recognize.) My GUESS is Korean. I can't find an English version on mobile but they don't care.
Let's face it, their English isn't SO good. Another language doesn't phase them.
These moments outweigh the crazy times, the bad times, the sad times. I guess just like the rest of life though, you don't reflect back on the 23 hours that went well. You remember and dwell on the one you got punched in the face.
That's something I am working on. It's not easy.
Nothing worth doing ever is.