Today I woke up to my freshly cleaned house…living room in order, dishes done, my room cleaned and vacuumed, the scent of Febreeze still lingering from last night’s late night cleaning bender. I sat in quiet, in my favorite chair, just relaxing and enjoying the quiet of my house. I grab my latest book and begin reading, interrupted shortly thereafter by my youngest son, who at 15 still pads down the staircase much like when he was little. “Im hungry” he tells me…”Cinnamon rolls in the freezer. Wanna cook?” I ask him. together we prepare the rolls to be placed in the oven, and I feel a wave of happiness, him standing next to me in the kitchen, and wait 30 minutes for our rolls to cook while watching a movie together. It used to be our Sunday ritual which has given way to the erratic sleep patterns of him being a teenager.
The rolls being done, I lay the knife near the pan to which he says, “I want the knife, its covered with the frosting.” So big yet so little in so many ways. My heart is happy to have these quiet few moments with my son. The sappy mother who adores her boys is glowing through my heart, I can feel the happiness all over. I remember the same little boy, toddling down in ducky feet pajamas, looking for his cinnamon toast or toast with honey on Sunday mornings…looking for a silly movie or watching the Power Rangers, just us, sharing a morning. I’m happy…my heart is happy…and the cinnamon rolls were fantastic though a bit sweet for me! A good morning in my house…smiling.

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