Tonight we went to Burger King.
We almost never eat fast food, especially not on a weeknight. I pride myself in bringing home the bacon and frying it up in the pan. Or, in my case, bringing home the boneless, skinless chicken breasts and grilling them on the George Foreman. But whatever.
Tonight the evening got away from us. So the four of us went to Burger King.
Boy Child and Girl Child are ten now. An age that is right on the cusp of both childhood and teenager. An age where they are asking and learning (Tonight: "Mom? What's a condom?") and an age where they are still extremely innocent. An age, I am learning, in which they really like to eat. And not kid's meals, people. Adult food!
As we sat and ate our adult food, it occurred to me how pleasant it is to be the mother of ten year-old children. How easy it is, right now, today. How I don't have to feed a baby or cut up anyone's chicken or handle a meltdown from a two year old or a sullen teenager. How we can sit and eat and talk and how very pleased they are to be eating a chicken sandwich instead of a meal that came with a toy.
And? How very pleased I am with who they are turning out to be.
I know things will probably get harder in the next few years. I know are times when I whine excessively about not having another baby. I know that this is just a very small moment in time, a mere snapshot of the chaotic world that the four of us share.
But I'll take it. Tonight. And I will be grateful for every moment of it.